


Til There Was You

by legolasismine



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-15
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Mentions of (sexual) child abuse and religious fundamentalism., violence - Warning
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolasismine/pseuds/legolasismine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Apologies to fans of Hugo and Ian, but I needed villains. Places and organisations appearing in this fics are purely fictional and not supposed to portray any real ones. Also, thanks go to <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://mesnica.livejournal.com/">mesnica</a> for the awesome banner!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to fans of Hugo and Ian, but I needed villains. Places and organisations appearing in this fics are purely fictional and not supposed to portray any real ones. Also, thanks go to [](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile)[mesnica](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/) for the awesome banner!

Title: Til There Was You (Pro/7)  
Author: [](http://legolas-is-mine.livejournal.com/profile)[**legolas_is_mine**](http://legolas-is-mine.livejournal.com/)  
Beta: [](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile)[**mesnica**](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: This part G, goes up to NC17 later.  
Disclaimer: None of this is true, and I'm certainly not claiming it is. I made it all up in my brain. My very own brain.  
Warnings: Violence, Mentions of (sexual) child abuse and religious fundamentalism.  
Authors Note: Apologies to fans of Hugo and Ian, but I needed villains. Places and organisations appearing in this fics are purely fictional and not supposed to portray any real ones. Also, thanks go to [](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/)**mesnica** for the awesome banner!  
  
  
  
  
  
Orlando knocked on the door, hoping beyond hope that the owner was at home. He had no hope if Viggo wasn’t there. It had been a long time since he had felt that he needed to come here. Waiting anxiously for the door to open, Orlando sobbed when it showed no sign of movement and slumped to the floor in defeat, his shoulders shaking as he wept. 

Some time later, a car pulled up to the driveway of the small house, and a blonde man stepped out. Seeing the by now somnolent figure on the doorstep, he sighed.

“How many more times, Orli?” he murmured under his breath before scooping the boy into his arms and carrying him indoors.

Orlando only vaguely heard the muttered reassurances as Viggo stripped off his dank clothes and deftly inserted him into a pair of pyjamas before tucking him into a small bed in a little room deep within the house. Leaving him to sleep himself out, Viggo turned the key softly in the door on his way out, removing it and tucking it into his pocket with another deep sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Til There Was You   
Author: [](http://legolas-is-mine.livejournal.com/profile)[**legolas_is_mine**](http://legolas-is-mine.livejournal.com/)  
Beta: [](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile)[**mesnica**](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: This part G, goes up to NC17 later.  
Disclaimer: None of this is true, and I'm certainly not claiming it is. I made it all up in my brain. My very own brain.  
Warnings: Violence, Mentions of (sexual) child abuse and religious fundamentalism.  
Authors Note: Apologies to fans of Hugo and Ian, but I needed villains. Places and organisations appearing in this fics are purely fictional and not supposed to portray any real ones. Also, thanks go to [](http://mesnica.livejournal.com/profile)**mesnica** for the awesome banner!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Some hours later, Orlando was just beginning to wake up. He rolled over in his bed and squinted into the light of the room. He couldn’t remember exactly where he had fallen asleep, but he knew it hadn’t been here. As his awareness slowly returned, he recognized his surroundings and smiled sleepily. Viggo was still here, still taking care of him, even after all this time.   
  
Orlando had only knocked on his door a handful of times, but each time he did, it was opened and he was welcomed inside, and given a taste of paradise for a few hours before the real world beckoned and he had to return to its much less welcome grasp. Viggo’s home was a haven for Orlando, and he tried not to abuse the privilege.   
  
Usually he limited his meetings with Viggo to those taking place at the day centre in town where he had first met the man some five years before after a rather explosive argument with his step-father. That had been the first time he had gone in to the centre, attracted by the promise of free food and some warm place to wait out the time until it got dark and his step-father fell asleep so that he could sneak back into the house unnoticed.  
  
Viggo had given him an extra cookie with his lunch, and come over to sit with him a little later on when most of the other kids were watching T.V. The day centre was in an old warehouse, a place where young people could come and play games or watch T.V. It was somewhere to hang out, and much safer than random street corners, or home for Orlando.   
  
Pulling himself out of the bed, Orlando grimaced in pain as he put his weight onto a bruised buttock. Hugo had been really pissed off with him last night, not just his usual _you’re the perverted son of my wife and her bastard ex-husband_ annoyed, but actual _you broke the vase I bought your mother for her birthday_ mad. After his step-dad had beaten and kicked him for a while, he had thrown Orlando out of the house – his usual recourse when his step-son annoyed him to the point of potentially doing some serious damage.  
  
Orlando pulled at the door, cursing when he realised he was locked in. Crossing his legs to stop himself having an accident, he looked around for something he could use for a toilet. Seeing another door on the other side of the room, Orlando remembered that both of the bedrooms in Viggo’s house were en suite. Muttering thanks to whatever higher power might exist for this, he ran for the small bathroom, hissing in relief as his bladder emptied itself into the toilet.   
  
Pulling off his pyjamas, Orlando then climbed into the shower, figuring he might as well take the time to clean himself off. It wasn’t like he could go anywhere until his host woke up and let him out of the bedroom. If anyone else had locked him in, he would have been pissed off, but with Viggo, he didn’t mind. He knew the man only wanted to make sure he didn’t run off before Viggo talked to him, maybe got him checked out by his doctor friend.   
  
Letting the water run over his head and body, Orlando sighed with pleasure. This was much better than at home, where showers were timed – strictly 90 seconds, with an extra 3 minutes once a week to wash his hair. His step-dad believed that if Orlando were given the opportunity for longer showers, he would spend all his time in there, pleasuring himself. Orlando grinned to himself and decided that that wasn’t such a bad idea. Wanking at home was a definite no-no. Orlando had exactly no chances for such things, even in his bed at night, as Hugo’s own son slept in the same room with him, and Elijah wasted no chance to tattle on Orlando to his father, as a way to get the old man to leave him alone. Despite this the two boys managed to get on well for the most part.  
  
Not that Elijah wasn’t just as frustrated by the lack of privacy as Orlando, but he pretended not to care. In his father’s eyes, Elijah could do no wrong, much as Orlando could do no right. Hugo was a devoted church goer, and had been disgusted by Orlando’s refusal to attend services after one of the most respected members of the congregation had placed his hand somewhere it had no business being. He hadn’t believed Orlando, of course, and had told the rest of the church that Orlando had been possessed by demons.  
  
There had followed weeks of so-called exorcisms, which had mostly consisted of Orlando being forcibly confined to his bed and prayed over, with the occasional castigating thrown in for good measure. Eventually, he had been declared a hopeless case and was thereafter banned from the church premises and all functions thereof, which he had been glad of, but it made Hugo stricter than ever with him, and his mother always agreed with Hugo, especially in matters of the church.  
  
Not long after that had come the day when he had met Viggo, when his whole life had changed. Meeting the other man, who seemed to actually care about Orlando’s well-being – about the well-being of all the down-trodden, unwanted kids who frequented the youth centre – had given him some hope. Just having someone to talk to about what happened at home, about the million things that Hugo had told him made him evil – things that Viggo said were perfectly normal – was a massive relief to a boy who had almost started to believe his step-father’s propaganda about himself, not that he was possessed by evil spirits, but that there was something wrong with him.  
  
Finishing up his shower, Orlando stepped out of the cubicle and wrapped himself in a large, soft towel, wandering back into the bedroom to find some clothes. He knew Viggo kept underwear as well as t-shirts and jeans in his guest room. He never knew when he would end up bringing one of the disaffected kids home from the day centre with him. It was strictly against the rules, of course, but there were times when Viggo knew that one night away from home could make all the difference – even the small distance giving the kids broken spirits time to revive a little. And one night was all he would ever allow, and even that not often.   
  
Once dressed, Orlando grabbed a book from the large shelf and settled himself in to read until Viggo came to release him, and hopefully feed him. Orlando’s stomach was grumbling with hunger. Hugo had never actually starved him, but food wasn’t exactly plentiful at home. But for his mother, Orlando would have run away years ago. His mother, who loved Hugo so much, who couldn’t understand why her son didn’t appreciate what her second husband had done for him.  
  
Hugo never laid a finger on his mother, that much Orlando knew. He knew his own father was no better than his step-dad. He had met him only a handful of times since he had been arrested after his mother had finally called the police on him one night when he had nearly killed them both after flying into a rage.   
  
Hugo’s first wife had died giving birth to Elijah, and Orlando’s step-brother had been brought up worshipping the memory of his dead mother, but desperate for a mother’s love. Hugo was, at least, not unfair. He expected the same standards of Elijah that he did of Orlando, only Elijah was much more likely to meet those standards, having had to live by them all his life. Orlando had only had a few years practise; his mother had never even tried teaching him religion until after she met Hugo, and Orlando found it difficult to reconcile the hardships of his life with all the talk of God’s love.  
  
He was buried deep in his novel when he heard the soft click of the key turning in the door. Looking up, he smiled when Viggo pushed the door open.  
  
“How you feeling, kiddo?” Viggo asked, sitting on the bed next to Orlando. “You were in pretty bad shape last night.”  
  
“A lot better now, thanks.” Orlando smiled reassuringly up at Viggo. “The old man was really mad at me last night. Said he was going to drive the demons out of me once and for all.” Orlando couldn’t suppress a shudder when he mentioned his step-father’s fanatical beliefs.   
  
Viggo rubbed Orlando’s shoulder reassuringly. Most of the kids he spent his life helping had similar horror stories to tell of their lives. All he could do was lend an ear – and a place to stay for a little while – when it got to be too much.   
  
“Sorry for locking you in, but I wanted to talk to you before you ran off back home. You’ve got some nasty looking bruises there, Orli.”  
  
“S’okay man, I know you don’t like it when I disappear before you wake up! Hey, you got any food for a hungry kid?”  
  
“Sure, come down to the kitchen and I’ll whip you up some breakfast. How does a full English sound to you?”  
  
“Like heaven. The latest commandment from his screw-ball pastor is that red meat increases the libido, so it’s banned from the house now. Say what you will about that git, at least he’s consistent.”  
  
Viggo chose to ignore that statement for now, he had things he wanted to discuss with Orlando, but they could wait until after breakfast and a medical exam from the doctor who worked with Viggo at the centre.  
  
***************  
  
“Sit yourself down, Lan; I’ll rustle up some food for you,” Viggo said, pointing Orlando towards a chair at the dilapidated table in the small kitchen. Orlando slid into the chair and poured himself a glass of orange juice from the carton Viggo dumped in front of him.  
  
“That smells good,” Orlando sighed as the smells of the food drifted over from the stove.   
  
Viggo grinned. Orlando had something of a prodigious appetite, and his home life meant that he did not often get to indulge it. Even at the Day Shelter food was rationed. They only had so much food to go round, and they had to make sure that everyone got their fair share.  
  
“You wanna tell me why I found you on my doorstep last night, Orli?” Viggo asked, knowing it would be easier for Orlando to talk whilst he didn’t have to look at Viggo’s face. The young man had a hard time at home, but he found talking about it difficult, even to Viggo, whom he trusted implicitly.  
  
“I… I dunno, Vig. Hugo was going on at me like always, about how evil I was, and how he wanted to do more exorcisms. I said I wouldn’t let him and he said that I had no way to stop him. I guess… I… I kicked the wall, and this foul vase he gave mum for her birthday fell on the floor and smashed.” Orlando sighed, placing his head in his hands. “That got him really steamed up and he went mental at me, calling me a demon and god knows what else. I couldn’t hear after a while from the blood rushing in my ears. Then Elijah came in from Youth Group. He usually manages to stop Hugo from going too mental. He doesn’t want his precious boy getting the wrong idea about him.”  
  
“Did it help this time?” Viggo asked, setting down a plateful of food in front of the lad.  
  
”Well, in a way it did. Hugo screamed at Lijah to go up to our bedroom and threw me out the door. Told me not to come back until tonight unless I wanted even more bruises. I don’t want to know what he has planned for when I get home.” Orlando sighed again, and began to eat, almost inhaling the food in his hunger.   
.   
“Orli, I’m curious, what does your Mom think about Hugo hurting you like that?” Viggo asked gently, not wanting to push Orlando. It was a question he had wanted to ask before, but previously he had always stopped himself before. The seemingly escalating violence now pushed him into asking.  
  
“My mum… she… she doesn’t exactly know about it. I mean, she knows he’s strict with me – with both of us – but she doesn’t know about the beatings and stuff. I couldn’t let her find out about that,” Orlando said, all in a rush as though he had to force the words out.  
  
“So where was she last night? And doesn’t she wonder when you don’t come home? I don’t mean to pry, Orli, I just don’t understand how it is that she doesn’t know.” Viggo smiled sympathetically at Orlando as he ate his own breakfast, mopping up the remains of his egg with a piece of fried bread.  
  
“Well, she spends a lot of time at the church, or visiting the sick or doing good deeds. When she’s at home, she’s either in the kitchen or in bed, usually. Hugo takes care never to beat me in front of her, and it’s not like Elijah or I are going to tell her about it,” Orlando said ruefully. His step-brother might escape the brunt of Hugo’s rage, but he was just as abused, in his own way.  
  
“Why do you protect him?” Viggo asked. He knew that Orlando worried about what would happen to his little brother if he was removed as the object of Hugo’s rage, but surely there was no point in letting himself be killed to protect Elijah.  
  
“I… I dunno Viggo. I just… who would even believe me? Except you, I mean?” Orlando said, wrinkling his nose in thought. “That church of his… they believe that discipline is everything, especially with _impressionable young men_. They’d have the cops or whoever believing that I was just acting out. That’s what they call it when anyone else can hear. In private, I’m possessed by despicable demons.”  
  
Viggo sighed. He had no idea what to suggest to Orlando, having no clout with the authorities himself. In fact, they rather looked down on him as pandering to juvenile delinquents. The church Hugo was a member of had links all the way up to the top of the police department in their small town, and Viggo was sure that Orlando was right.  
  
As an outsider, Viggo saw Orlando – and the other kids from the day centre – with an unprejudiced eye, but most of the town elders saw them as little more than a nuisance. Really, the best thing for most of them would be to leave town, or at least move out of their parents houses, but it was just impossible, there simply weren’t enough local foster parents for that, and the church was too influential, expertly blocking the removal of vulnerable children from important members of the congregation. They had even fought Viggo and his colleagues setting up the Day Shelter, regarding it as being a godless enterprise encouraging delinquencies.   
  
The more impartial planning committee had decided to give Viggo a chance, and he had proved them right. Vandalism and incidences of teenage crime had decreased dramatically since the day centre had opened its doors. Viggo and Bernard, the staff doctor, had been shocked by the amount of abused youths that came through their doors, all of them with similar stories to tell. They helped where they could, mostly supplementing inadequate diets and patching up cuts and bruises; that, and providing a small amount of access to normal teenage activities, like television and magazines, and games of pool and table football to play, that were forbidden at home.  
  
“Alright, I’ll leave it for now, Orli. But at least come down to the centre and let Bernard take a look at you, huh?” Viggo knew when to let well alone, and the trapped look on Orlando’s face told him to stop digging before the young man made a bolt for it.  
  
“Yeah, sure, whatever. I could use some painkillers anyway,” Orlando said with a shrug of his shoulders. He was aware of Viggo’s concern for his well-being, and knew that he wasn’t going to get away without letting Dr Hill examine him and heal what he could. Viggo cared about all the kids from the centre, of course, but he seemed to take a special interest in Orlando’s case. Maybe it was just because Orlando had opened up to him about his abuse. Most of the kids Viggo met in his daily life wouldn’t talk about their experiences.   
  
Both men were quiet in Viggo’s car on the way down to the centre. Viggo was mentally exploring Orlando’s options. The boy was nineteen now, well old enough to move out if he wanted to. The difficulty would be in convincing Orlando that he would be better off out of that hell hole he called home. He had tried on several occasions to broach the subject, but it had never seemed the right time to suggest it. He resolved again to make it the right time, after Bernard had taken care of Orlando’s wounds.  
  
Orlando, on the other hand, was eating a snack that Viggo had put together from the remains of their breakfast. It was a source of constant amazement to the older man how such a slim young man could eat so much. When he had finished the sandwich, Orlando wiped his hands on a napkin that Viggo had thoughtfully provided, and then stared down at his lap, trying to suppress the little voice inside his head that told him that Hugo was right, and that he should just go home and face the music. He knew that Viggo wouldn’t let him do that without an argument, but part of him couldn’t help wondering if his step-father was right about him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**  
Orlando was startled out of his reverie by the engine of Viggo’s car abruptly cutting out. Looking up, the young man saw that they had arrived at the car park where Viggo’s car would spend the day whilst he was busy helping the young people of the community. Pulling himself out of the car, Orlando winced, moaning in pain as a too deep breath made his side twinge.   
  
“Come on, lad. Let’s get that seen to, huh?” Viggo said, gently putting an arm around Orlando’s shoulders and assisting him inside the day centre.   
  
Once inside, Orlando slumped into a chair to wait as Viggo went to find Dr Hill. Orlando had been tired enough the night before to ignore the pain in his back and side whilst he slept, but now that he was no longer hungry and exhausted, the pain was coursing through his body. Breathing shallowly to ward off the spiking pain in his chest, Orlando tried to smile at the other kids playing and hanging out in the large room, which served as the main room of the shelter.  
  
One of them he knew better than the others, Dominic, shifted up closer to Orlando and rubbed his leg comfortingly. Orlando had first met Dominic at the Youth Group at church, and then again at the Troubled Teen classes the church ran, where young men and women were encouraged to read the bible and listen to the words of the pastor until they were indoctrinated into behaving as the church required. It worked in a lot of cases, but Orlando and Dominic had both found the classes a bore, and their refusal to submit to the church’s discipline had earned them both the title of possessed.   
  
Several of the many exorcisms both had endured had taken place jointly, serving to bring the boys closer. It had been Dominic who had first discovered the Day Shelter, and he had dragged Orlando downtown with him one day when Orlando needed somewhere to hide from Hugo for a few hours. Orlando had become a much more frequent visitor to the centre than Dom, but the other boy still visited on occasion, usually to take advantage of the free, no questions asked medical care available there.  
  
Orlando laid his head on Dominic’s shoulder, blinking his eyes to stop the tears that were forming from flowing. They weren’t waiting long for Viggo and Bernard to return, but it was long enough for the tears to really start to flow. Viggo’s earlier gentle prodding combined with the pain of his injuries and the unexpected comfort of his best friend’s presence had served to demolish the wall of stoicism Orlando had built up around his grief.  
  
“Hey, Orli, come on, come into my surgery, hmm. This horrible lot don’t need to see you cry.” Bernard kept his voice light, but he was worried about Orlando. This young man was one of the strongest kids he had come across in all his years as a volunteer doctor to the disadvantaged, and if he was breaking down like this, it was past time to act.   
  
Orlando sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
“Sorry, Dr Hill. Didn’t mean to be a bother, it just…” Orlando swallowed, trying to keep the tears firmly inside where they belonged.  
  
“It’s alright mate, you’re no bother. Just slip your t-shirt off, hmm. Viggo says you’ve got some nasty bruises down there.” Bernard turned awa, ostensibly to put some gloves on, but also to give Orlando a chance to gather his emotions. Bernard knew that the best thing for Orlando right now was to treat him calmly rather than to be overly solicitous of him.  
  
Orlando pulled his t-shirt over his head, dumping it on the couch beside him. Hesitating briefly, he also pulled his jeans off, wanting Bernard to take a look at the bruises on his arse as well, even though he knew that it was his ribs that were hurt more badly.   
  
“You want to tell me what happened, kiddo?” Bernard asked, carefully pressing on Orlando’s stomach, removing the pressure instantly when the young man hissed in pain.  
  
“Not really, Dr Hill,” Orlando replied, rubbing his nose again, and quickly swiping his hand over his eyes to catch the remnants of his tears.   
  
Bernard nodded, Viggo was a lot better at getting the young people to open up than he was himself; his specialty was in patching them up without reporting them, and prescribing low cost medications or giving out free samples wherever he could so that these kids and young adults could get the treatment they needed.  
  
“Alright Orli, that’s fine. Have you managed to catch any of the footie lately?” Bernard continued his examination, pressing gently on Orlando’s ribs to see if any were broken. He rather thought not, a broken rib would have given Orlando much more difficulty breathing than he seemed to be having.  
  
“Not really, I’m not allowed to watch any television at the moment. Hugo says that it’s a corrupting influence on me.” Orlando flushed miserably, looking determinedly at the floor as Bernard began to wind a swathe of white bandages around his chest.  
  
“Eh, you’re not missing much, take it from me. Just turn over for me now, so I can look at your backside,” Bernard said with a wink, daubing the bruises and welts littering Orlando’s back and arse with a cooling, antibacterial gel. Most of the damage was superficial, although it was definitely bad enough to make Orlando uncomfortable for a day or two. He was more worried about the young man’s ribs, which were definitely bruised, if not cracked. Orlando would need to rest up for a few days, and Bernard knew from previous experience that this simply wasn’t an option for him.   
  
“Right then, young man. I’ll get you some Tylenol, and then you can go and… read a book or something. I don’t want you doing anything strenuous here today Orlando, is that understood?”  
  
Orlando nodded reluctantly. Bernard knew as well as he did that once he got home he’d have to do his chores, but usually he would get involved in various projects with the younger kids, enjoying the time spent with them as a contrast to the way he was treated at home. Orlando knew that Dr Hill meant what he said, and so after he had taken the pills he consented to being given into Dominic’s care – the other boy being given strict instructions as to what Orlando was _and wasn’t_ allowed to do that day.  
  


******************

  
“How you feeling now, Orli?” Viggo came and sat next to Orlando on one of the dilapidated couches that littered the main room of the Day Shelter. Orlando had spent the morning ensconced on the sofa, his body buried in a pile of blankets, his mind in a book. When Viggo spoke to him, he started out of the world in his head.  
  
“A lot better, thanks,” Orlando replied, smiling at Viggo around a mouthful of the sandwich that the older man had brought over to him.   
  
“I’m glad. When you’ve finished your lunch, will you come and talk to me in the office? I have some ideas I want to put to you. Nothing to be scared of,” Viggo said reassuringly, patting one of Orlando’s legs through the blanket pile.   
  
Orlando nodded nervously, wondering what Viggo wanted him to do. Maybe he was going to tell Orlando he couldn’t come back to the centre. Orlando knew he was older than most of the others who came here, but Hugo wouldn’t let him get a job so he was unable to support himself, and he had nowhere else to go unless he changed his tune and eagerly embraced the tenets of the Free Church of Christ the Living Savior. And honestly, that wasn’t going to happen any time in the next century or so.  
  
Leaving Orlando to finish his lunch in peace, Viggo returned to his office, stopping a couple of times on the way to check on some of the other kids. Sitting down at his computer, Viggo opened a few web-pages that he thought might be useful in persuading Orlando to leave home. He also rooted around in his untidy desk until he located the business card of Dr Sean Bean, a psychiatrist of his acquaintance.  
  
Some ten minutes later, a timid knock on the office door alerted Viggo to Orlando’s presence outside his door. Rising from his seat, Viggo went and opened the door, smiling widely as he welcomed Orlando inside.  
  
“Come in Orlando, and take a seat. And stop worrying!” Viggo said, following him back over to the desk and sitting down on the other side of the desk.   
  
“Did… did I do something wrong?” Orlando asked worriedly, biting his lip nervously, and nibbling at his thumb, a habit that all the slaps in the world hadn’t been able to train out of him. Viggo shook his head reassuringly.  
  
“No, no, no!” he said, taking Orlando’s hand across the table. “I just wanted to talk to you about something that I think might be good for you, that’s all. You don’t even have to do anything if you don’t want to, but just hear me out, yeah?”  
  
“O… okay then. I’m not going to the police though, Viggo, no matter what you say. It’s just not worth it.” Orlando, along with every other young person Viggo had ever met in his professional life, was totally adamant on this score.  
  
“I’m not asking you to, Orli, I know how you feel about that. What I wanted to suggest was… well, you’re nineteen, have you ever thought about moving out of your step-dad’s house?” Viggo was careful to put this revolutionary idea as a question, wanting Orlando to make his own decision.   
  
“But… I don’t have a job, or any life skills. What would I do? I’d have nowhere to live!” The young man pushed his chair back, clearly not far from bolting out of Viggo’s office – perhaps out of the centre – for good.  
  
“Does it matter what you would do Orlando? There are plenty of jobs out there for a bright young man like you.”  
  
“But what would I _do_? Who would give _me_ a job?”  
  
“I would, for one.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Well, you could work here, at the Centre. You’re great with the kids, Orlando, they really like you, and they’re more likely to trust you than me, because they know you’ve been through it as well.”   
  
Orlando calmed at Viggo’s suggestion. He knew that what the older man suggested was true; he did have a good relationship with many of the younger kids who visited the Day Shelter.  
  
“Alright, I could work here, but I still wouldn’t have anywhere to live,” Orlando protested, regarding his thumb closely to find a new place to attack it.  
  
“You could stay at my place…” Viggo offered tentatively  
  
“Why would you want me to stay there?” Orlando asked, instantly suspicious. In his world, you never got something for nothing in return, and the price was usually much higher than he was willing to pay.   
  
“Well, I could do with the company,” Viggo said, running through reasons to suggest to Orlando in his head.  
  
“You think that just because you give me a home I’ll be _company_ for you? No way, man!”  
  
“Not that kind of company! I would never expect that of Orlando, and I’d hope you would know that.”  
  
“I guess I do really, Viggo. I know you aren’t like that, but…”  
  
“I know you’re not used to getting something for nothing, Lan, but I promise I’m not out to take advantage of you, and you really would be doing me a favour helping out here.”  
  
“I guess so… maybe…”  
  
“Just for a few weeks, Lan. Only till you get on your feet. No strings attached, I promise.” Orlando was still regarding Viggo suspiciously, and the older man sighed dejectedly. “Look at it this way, Orli. There are all the kids I see coming in here day after day, week after week, and I can’t do _anything_ to get any of you out of the shitty situations you’re in. Now, you’re older, I _can_ help for once, and I’d really really like to. You may not understand, but you’re sort of special to me Orli, and I don’t want to see you go under. I don’t want to have to watch those gits at your step-dad’s church win again. Please, just give me a chance to prove I’m not like them, that’s all I’m asking.”  
  
Orlando looked down at the floor. He had never thought how the plight of himself and his friends affected those who were left picking up the pieces. The boy knew that Viggo had set up other shelters in other towns, moving on each time once the shelter was well established. He wondered what was different here, what made Viggo stay on. They were interrupted by a knock on the door.  
  
“Who is it?” Viggo called, inwardly cursing at the interruption. Dominic answered, sounding worried.  
  
“Is Orli still in there with you Viggo? I need to talk to him,” Dom called through the door.  
  
“Come in then, Dominic,” Viggo answered, somewhat testily.   
  
Dominic peeked around the door, shrugging apologetically at Viggo.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt, but this is important,” the cheeky faced young man assured Viggo, squatting next to Orlando’s chair. “I just popped home to grab my school books, and I overheard my dad talking to Pastor Jackson on the phone. They were talking about you, man.”  
  
“What were they saying?” Orlando asked, his voice tight with forced calmness.  
  
“They’re gonna do another number on you tonight. Mr. Weaving told Pastor Jackson that you have been violent, and needed urgent correction and care. The jerk said that he would bring Mr. McKellan and Mr. Lee round to yours this evening.”  
  
Orlando went pale, and took a deep breath, before looking at Viggo resignedly and making up his mind.  
  
“Okay. I’ll give it a try. But…”   
  
Viggo’s heart leapt at Orlando’s agreement. Although he would never admit to it, or attempt to act on it, he felt very strongly for Orlando. The British lad was very attractive, and he was so sweet and caring, despite his life at home, hinting that life before his mother had moved to America and married Hugo had been very different.   
  
Dominic was looking backwards and forwards between the older man and his friend, trying to work out what was going on with them.  
  
“But what, Orli?” Viggo asked gently, not wanting to scare Orlando now he had agreed to move into Viggo’s house, albeit on a strictly temporary basis. It was enough to know that he would be away from his step-father, even if it was only for a few weeks,.  
  
“Will you come with me to get my stuff? If I go by myself he’ll probably lock me in my bedroom or something,” Orlando asked, breathing deeply to stop himself panicking, or prematurely rejoicing. There was too much that could go wrong – maybe Viggo would change his mind, or else Hugo would do something to stop him moving out. Hugo disagreed on principle with anything that wasn’t the idea of someone from church, and he hated Viggo, if only because Orlando liked him.   
  
Not that Hugo knew how much Orlando liked the older man. His crush had developed several years before, back when he had still been deeply suspicious of the shelter owner. He had always been careful to keep his sexuality a secret, knowing what had happened to other young people who had admitted that they were not strictly heterosexual. Orlando had no doubt that Hugo would do his best to keep Orlando ‘safely’ at his house, but Viggo was right. Orlando was an adult now, and he was perfectly entitled to move out if he so wished.   
  
“Of course I will, kiddo. No problem at all,” Viggo said with a smile, allowing himself to relax now that Orlando seemed calmer about the concept.   
  
“Oh, I bet there will be a problem,” Orlando said with a humourless laugh. “I just hope he doesn’t take it out on Elijah and my mum.”  
  
“Do you think he’s likely to do that? From what you’ve told me over the years, it seems like he’s never been… physical… with them,” Viggo said. Hugo was a bastard to Orlando, but according to Orlando he had never hurt either of the other two family members.   
  
“I don’t think he’d hit them, but he might get even stricter with Elijah.” Orlando pursed his lips, pushing his thumb back into his mouth and gnawing on it distractedly. Viggo came around the desk to sit on the side and took Orlando’s hands in his own.  
  
“Orli, you can’t sacrifice your whole life to save Elijah from his father. Once you’ve got a home of your own and a good job – and you _will_ have both, I know it, you can work on getting Elijah out of there, all the while you stay, you’re as powerless as he is.” Stroking Orlando’s thumb gently, Viggo looked the younger man straight in the eyes, attempting to persuade him purely by strength of will. After several long moments, Orlando’s body suddenly relaxed.  
  
“Yes. You’re right. The sooner I get myself sorted out, the sooner I can help Elijah. Maybe I can convince him to come down here sometimes, just to see what normal kids are doing, watch a bit of T.V. or something. And we could keep in touch that way.”  
  
“I think that’s an excellent idea, Orlando. So, when do you want to fetch your stuff? Shall we go now, or wait till later on?”  
  
“Now. Whilst I have the nerve built up!” Orlando said decisively, “Also, if we wait till later the whole gang will probably be there. Pastor Jackson, that slimy git McKellan and the rest of them. Much better to get in and out before they arrive.”   
  
Viggo was inclined to agree. He was confident that he could best Hugo if it came to a physical fight, but a whole group of determined church members would be harder to handle.


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on then. You want to bring Dominic with you, or are we leaving him here?” Viggo asked.   
  
Dominic’s eyes were practically popping out of his head by now.  
  
“What the hell are you two up to?” the young man couldn’t stop himself from asking, unable to believe that Orlando was going to escape his tormenters – their tormentors at last.  
  
“I’m going to stay with Viggo for a little while, work in the shelter here,” Orlando replied, allowing himself a small measure of hope for the near future at last. Dominic gulped audibly.  
  
“What’ll your… Mr Weaving say?” No matter how much they hated the church elders, the two boys hadn’t quite thrown off their conditioning, one of the strictest aspects of which was respect to elders, and part of that was calling any adult by their surname.   
  
“He can say what he wants, I’m a legal adult now and he can’t stop me.”   
  
Dom, younger by a year and a few months, looked crestfallen; he wasn’t yet eighteen, and had hoped that he might escape with Orlando.   
  
“You can’t leave home just yet, Dom, but let me give you the business card of my friend Dr Bean, will you?” Viggo offered, seeing the younger boy wilt under the news that he would be left alone in the grip of the church.  
  
“Why? Can’t I see Dr Hill any more?” Dominic asked, wondering what he had done wrong now. He was used to being rejected, but hadn’t looked for that rejection here, where even the possessed were accepted with no strings attached.  
  
“Of course you can still see Dr Hill. Dr Bean is a psychiatrist, he’s helped a lot of people from your church, and others like it, get used to the world outside of restrictions and bible class.” Viggo held out the small cardboard rectangle to Dom, hoping that the boy would realise what a lifeline he was offering.   
  
Sean Bean, as a state licensed psychiatrist, had much greater reputation with the authorities than Viggo himself, who was viewed at best as an eccentric hippy, and at worst a dangerous influence, and he hoped that Dominic could find the help he needed there.  
  
“I think… it would be better if Dom didn’t come with us today,” Orlando said, falteringly. “If he comes with, Hugo will tell Pastor Jackson, and they’ll lay into him instead of me.”  
  
“You’re a very wise young man, Orlando,” Viggo said, squeezing his hand reassuringly, and winking at Dom, who had looked disappointed when Orlando began to speak, but then relieved when he realised how much sense his friend was talking.  
  
“I’ll still be here every day, Dommie. We’ll still see each other, I promise,” Orlando assured the other boy earnestly.   
  
Dominic nodded uncertainly. He would miss seeing Orli at church discipline sessions, but he knew, even more than Viggo, that Orlando needed to get out. And if he went to see Dr Bean, maybe he could get out too.  
  


**********************

  
The car ride to Orlando’s parent’s house was filled with much more noise than the ride from Viggo’s house to the day centre earlier. Orlando had turned the car radio on, flicking nervously from station to station, and kept confirming with Viggo that they were just going to Hugo’s to pick up his things, that Viggo wouldn’t abandon him there.  
  
Viggo reassured him as many times as he needed; he knew from bitter experience that nothing would prove to Orlando that he was serious about this until it had actually happened, and even then the young man would probably require some reassurance. Pulling up outside the small, neat house, Viggo shut off the engine and looked over at Orlando.  
  
“You ready, kid?” he asked, doing his best to seem confident enough for the two of them. He knew that Orlando’s own confidence was shaky at best, so he was determined that the younger man felt able to draw as much bravado as he needed from his companion.   
  
Orlando nodded, his hand shaking as he opened the car door. Taking Viggo’s hand for much needed resoluteness, Orlando walked up to his front door for what might very well be the last time. Steeling his nerves, he rang the bell once, squeezing Viggo’s hand and fighting a growing urge to just cut and run.  
  
“Who’s there?” Orlando heard his step-father’s voice through the door.  
  
“It… it’s Orlando, Sir,” the young man replied. Sir was an alternative to Dad that suited both step-father and step-son pretty well, giving the one the respect he demanded, and the other the emotional distance. Hugo had never been, and would never be, Orlando’s father.   
  
“You’re home early. What do you want?” Hugo asked, opening the door and scowling at Orlando. “What’s this gentleman doing here with you?”   
  
“I’m here to collect my things. I’m leaving home,” Orlando replied, proud of himself for keeping the tremors out of his voice.   
  
Viggo just looked on. He didn’t want Hugo to claim that he was forcing Orlando to do this against his will; he would back Orlando up if and when he needed it, but until then his part in this was that of silent observer.   
  
“And where are you going to go, hmm? Are you planning to starve on the streets Orlando?” Hugo really had the concerned father act down pat; he knew that a child as starved for affection as Orlando would respond to any concern thrown his way.  
  
“I’m staying with Viggo for a few weeks actually, Sir. No need for you to worry about me any more,” Orlando said, pleased to have a viable alternative to shut his step-father up.   
  
Hugo was visibly shocked by the news that someone was willing to take Orlando in, and mutely moved out of the way. Orlando stepped past, pulling Viggo after him and leading him up the stairs to the small bedroom he shared with his step-brother.  
  
In the time it took for Orlando to pack his things, and for he and Viggo to begin carrying them down the stairs, Hugo recovered his aplomb, certainly enough to start accusing Viggo.  
  
“You! You’re the faggot who runs that youth club, aren’t you!” Hugo accused, his voice going shrill with rage.  
  
“I own and run the Day Centre, that’s correct,” Viggo replied, keeping his voice calm. He knew that he had to keep as civil as he could; if he got angry and violent with Hugo then the other man might call the police, and that could lead to the shelter being closed down.   
  
“What do you want with my step-son?” Hugo asked, almost hysterical with rage, grabbing at the bag of clothes that Viggo was carrying out to the car. “Planning to use him for your Satan worshipping are you? I know your type; you entice impressionable young people and then sodomise them in disgusting rituals!”  
  
“Disgusting rituals like exorcisms to drive the devil out of confused young men, you mean?” Viggo replied, his tone displaying a calmness that belied the struggle going on inside of him – the struggle not to punch Hugo squarely in the face, and leave, taking both boys and Orlando’s mother with him. Reminding himself that that approach would create a lot more problems than it would solve, he restrained himself to pulling the bag from Hugo’s grasp and carrying it out to the car, where Orlando waited for him.  
  
“Is that everything?” Viggo asked, shocked by the small amount of things that Orlando was bringing with him.  
  
“Yeah, it’s sinful to have too many possessions, dontcha know? Too much worldliness is a very bad thing,” Orlando said solemnly, “I just want to go in and say good bye to my mum and all. Is that okay with you?”  
  
“Sure, I’ll just wait here for you. Take your time,” Viggo said, smiling sadly at his protégée. Orlando smiled back fleetingly before running back inside.  
  
“Orlando, don’t go with that heathen.” Hugo placed one hand on Orlando’s shoulder, “Who knows what kind of depraved things he’ll do to you!”  
  
“Get off me, Hugo.” Orlando shrugged Hugo’s grip off his shoulders and went into the sitting room, where his mother sat knitting with several of her church friends. “Mum, I’m moving out. This is the address of where I’ll be staying for now.”  
  
“Orli… why ever are you leaving?” Sonia Weaving, Orlando’s somewhat timid mother, was shocked at this abrupt announcement from her son. “Has something happened, darling?”  
  
“Yes mum, I’ve gotten fed up with being a punching bag for your husband and his sick friends, that’s what’s happened!” Despite what Orlando had insisted to Viggo, he was angry with his mother for not protecting him from his step-father. “I’ll be in touch, Mum, I promise. If he ever hurts you, call me straight away and I’ll come and get you.”   
  
Sonia stared after her little boy, who suddenly seemed very grown up, and carefully put the small square of paper he had given her out of sight of her husband in one of the pockets in her skirt.   
  
The other women had prudently averted their eyes during the scene, and as he left the room, Orlando heard them fawning over his mother, preventing her from following him. _Such a difficult boy, you must have the patience of a Saint to endure his antics_ was one of the snide remarks that he was able to discern as he walked off, into his step-father, who stood in the doorway.  
  
“Orlando, if you walk out that door you won’t be welcome to come back!” Hugo attempted to retain his control of the situation, his voice breaking as he screamed at his step-son. “When that monster hurts you, don’t expect to come running back here, for the door won’t be opened to those who consort with sodomizing Devil worshippers!”  
  
“The only hurts I’ve ever experienced in this town have been at the hands of you and your bible bashing friends, you _bastard_.” Years of suppressed rage were suddenly bubbling up inside of Orlando, and it took all his control not to explode in Hugo’s face.   
  
“Is that how you’ve been taught to speak to your elders and betters?” Hugo yelled, taking refuge in the familiar reprimand, not knowing how to react to this suddenly assertive Orlando he found in front of him.  
  
“My betters?!” Orlando laughed incredulously. “Are you really trying to suggest that your friends are better than me? I could tell you things about some of them that would make you think twice about calling Viggo a sodomizing devil worshipper, if you would believe me. Mr McKellan, for example. What that pervert did to me whilst you had me tied to the bed, you wouldn’t believe…”  
  
“GET OUT!” Hugo finally lost his rag as Orlando flung the truth about his friends at him. “You blaspheming, evil little…FIEND. You’re beyond help, just get out of my house and NEVER darken my doorstep again!”   
  
Orlando ran for the car, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut, wishing he could close out Hugo’s shouting from his brain as easily as he had slammed the door behind himself.  
  


**********************

  
Orlando grinned at Kyle. He was covered in glue and paint, helping the younger boy to construct a chair out of scrap wood that they had found in the garbage of the local hardware store. This was the third such chair that they had created, and several of the other kids had sewed bean bags, curtains and cushions to make the main room of the shelter more welcoming.   
  
“You guys hungry?” Viggo called from the kitchen, where a production line of giggling youngsters was creating a rather interesting array of sandwiches. Kyle immediately dropped the screwdriver he was holding and ran over to the hatch.  
  
“You bet we are!” The young boy smiled up at the shelter owner, making the older man grin at his paint covered visage.   
  
“You go get washed up Kyle, and make sure Orlando washes his hands for me, huh?” Viggo asked, making the chore of cleaning up into a game for the thirteen year old.   
  
Orlando’s youthful enthusiasm had revitalised him, and the whole Day Centre, turning it from a rundown building full of bored, frightened kids into a colourful, comfortable home-from-home for the young people who visited it each day after school.  
  
For Viggo, it was utterly gratifying to see Orlando bloom the way he had since leaving Hugo’s house. The young man adored his work at the shelter, helping out the kids and even taking on some of the paperwork when Viggo was too worn out by bureaucracy.  
  
Viggo began to plate up the sandwiches, raising his eyebrow silently at some of the more interesting combinations. Smiling at one of the young ladies, he grabbed a box of soda cans, lifting it onto the serving hatch to allow the kids to each take their lunchtime drink.  
  
Orlando returned from washing his hands, having let Kyle inspect them carefully for remains of paint splatters.   
  
“What’s for lunch today, Viggo?” the young man asked, peeking into the kitchen hopefully.  
  
“A variety of sandwiches,” Viggo answered. “I’m not going to answer for how edible some of them are though.”   
  
Orlando giggled; he had previous experience with the cooking attempts of some of these kids. Kyle, in particular, could get more creative than you would think with some bread and a few fillings. He was now banned from the kitchen after a several people had gotten sick following one of his more exotic creations.  
  
Helping himself to four sandwich halves from four different plates, and grabbing a can of lemonade, Orlando went and made himself comfortable at his small desk in the office. The half an hour of relative peace accorded by lunch time was valuable time for Orlando, and he often spent it at his desk, either working on the shelter records or studying for his high school diploma.   
  
Viggo had suggested that it would be useful for Orlando to gain this basic qualification, as a first rung on the step to becoming financially independent. Orlando had never graduated from his school, having missed too many classes whilst he spent time recovering from the churches discipline sessions, or attending brainwashing seminars. They had looked online until they had found a suitable distance learning facility, and Orlando had promptly signed himself up, studying late into the night and at every other spare moment he could find.  
  
He had also spent quite a few hours talking to Dr Bean, both in individual therapy, and in a group with other people who had previously been members of the Free Church of Christ the Living Savior, or other similarly abusive church groups. The therapy group was also a good place to hang out with Dominic, who was currently sneaking out of his bedroom window several times a week to attend sessions with Dr Bean in preparation for a court hearing to get himself removed from the custody of his parents.  
  
He was deep in a complicated algebra problem, barely tasting the food he was eating, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Glancing up, he saw his mother’s face peering nervously round the door.  
  
“Mum! Hey, how’re you doing?” he asked happily. Getting to his feet, Orlando ushered the small woman into the room and found a reasonably comfortable chair for her to sit on.  
  
“I’m okay, sweetheart. How are you getting on?” Sonia asked, looking around the room where her son spent most of his days with a small pout of disgust. This was not the first time that Sonia had visited Orlando at the shelter, but she still hadn’t got used to the conditions in the place.   
  
“I’m really good, Mum. Studying hard, I’ll get my diploma soon I hope, and then I can look at schools for an undergrad degree.” Orlando beamed enthusiastically at his mother, hoping that she would give her approval to the idea. He knew her too well to expect her to be ecstatic, but a little approval would go a long way. Sonia regarded her son for a long moment, and then smiled at him.  
  
“I think that’s wonderful, sweetheart. You’re really going to make something of yourself, huh?” she said, a little hesitant, but willing to give Orlando what he needed to be successful in his new life. Of course, she would much rather he had never left home, and his new found Godlessness was a worry to her, but she would swallow her doubts if it meant that he was happy.  
  
“Yeah, I’m doing well, much better than I was at home.” Orlando knew he was being harsh, but he couldn’t help being bitter about the way he had been treated by his step-father, and his mother had never done anything to stop his abuse.   
  
Even if she hadn’t known about the physical abuse, she had been well aware of the days that Orlando spent tied to the bed, prayers being intoned for as long as twenty four hours straight, not allowed to sleep, or even to close his eyes for longer than a few seconds at a time.   
  
In one three hour long session with Dr Bean, Orlando had poured out to the therapist all his misery and anger at the fact that his mother didn’t care enough about him to prevent this. Dr Bean had reassured him that this didn’t make him a bad son, that he was allowed to feel these things, but Orlando still found himself crying into his pillow night after night, from guilt at abandoning his mother, as well as anger at her emotional abandonment of him.  
  
“Orli, I’m so sorry,” Sonia began, her voice cracking.


	5. Chapter 5

  
“Orli, I’m so sorry,” Sonia began, her voice cracking. She had never meant to let it come to this. When she and Hugo had met and started dating, it had seemed like fate. Elijah was desperate for a mother, and Orlando needed a father figure more than he knew, or so his mother had thought. Hugo had been so charming, and his church so _nice_ to her, helping her with all the necessary bible study they both had needed in order to be baptised, and then when Orlando had started acting out they had all been so concerned about him, so willing to make allowances for his ungodly upbringing, at least at first.  
  
“I never knew…” she tried again to apologise, but Orlando didn’t let her get any further.  
  
“You never knew! How could you _not_ know? What they did to me, how can you say that you didn’t know what they were doing? You were right there in the room when Pastor Jackson tried to ‘beat the devil’ out of me that one day,” the young man exploded at his mother, the suppressed rage of years lashing out in one moment of honesty.  
  
“They said… they said it was for the best, that if I didn’t let them do it, you’d be lost to the Devil. I couldn’t let that happen, Orlando, you must see that!” Sonia plucked at her coat, silently begging her son for his forgiveness.  
  
“According to Hugo, I _have_ been lost to the Devil, Mum. Tell me then, was it worth it?” Orlando calmed himself down only with great effort, remembering that everyone outside could probably hear them through the thin walls. He was surprised that Viggo hadn’t already knocked on the door, asking him if he was okay. He appreciated the older man’s respect for his privacy.  
  
“No. It wasn’t worth it Orli,” Sonia said softly, “But I can’t turn back time now. I thought it was for the best, but I was wrong.”  
  
“Oh Mum, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean… I shouldn’t have said what I did.”  
  
“No… you had every right to shout, love. But I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for not looking after you when you needed it the most. I may not agree with some of your decisions about your life, but I’ll always give you what support I can. Even if I haven’t been a very good mother before this.”  
  
Orlando regarded the floor, his thumb firmly in his mouth. Viggo had said that Orlando’s thumb was more abused than he was, and that Orlando should really stop taking out his anger at the world on the poor defenceless digit. Orlando had giggled at that, hiding behind his newly grown fringe as it fell forward into his eyes.  
  
“It’s okay, Mum. I’m okay. I have a good life here, and it’s only going to get better,” Orlando offered as a sop of comfort to his mother, who was having to adjust to life without her son.   
  
“Well… that’s good, Orli. That’s really good. I… I have to get back now, okay? I have to do the shopping and finish the ironing. You… you be careful, okay?” Sonia knew that she wouldn’t see her son again for a few weeks; she didn’t like to visit him too often in case Hugo got the idea to follow her and try to snatch him back.  
  
Orlando nodded, waving goodbye sadly to his mother and returning to his desk, attempting to get his mind back on the maths problem he had been working on before his mother had arrived. He wasn’t looking at it for long before he was interrupted again, this time by Viggo sticking his head around the door anxiously.  
  
“You alright, Orli?” Viggo asked, “We couldn’t help overhearing…”  
  
“I’m fine,” Orlando stated flatly, wiping one hand across his cheek off-handedly, refusing to admit to his grief to his mentor. Viggo pulled the door shut behind himself and came and led Orlando over to the sofa that sat on the other side of the office.  
  
“Bullshit you are. Orli, it’s _okay_ to cry, how many times do we have to tell you that?” Viggo asked gently. Whilst Sean couldn’t tell him the details of Orlando’s sessions with him, of course, he had mentioned to Viggo that the way the young man repressed all his emotions was downright unhealthy. Following that revelation, Viggo had spent hours coaxing tears, rages and even the occasional giggle or laugh from Orlando.  
  
Stroking the curls off of his young friend’s face, Viggo leaned in towards him.  
  
“What do I have to do to prove to you that you’re safe here? That it’s okay to let go sometimes now?” he asked tenderly, cupping Orlando’s chin in his hand. Orlando leaned forwards into Viggo’s embrace.   
  
“Kiss me?” he suggested, shocking both Viggo and himself. They had come close to this on several occasions, but Viggo had always pulled back at the last moment, too frightened to press Orlando in case the younger man rejected him and ran screaming for the hills; or worse, for Pastor Peter Jackson, who would just love an excuse to close down the centre and force all the kids who spent time there into the church run youth groups which were the only alternative.  
  
“I… Are… are you sure?” Viggo asked, pulling himself closer to Orlando. At the young man’s nod, he gently pressed their mouths together, swiping his tongue over Orlando’s tempting lips. Orli’s jaw opened slightly, just enough to allow Viggo’s tongue entry to his waiting mouth.   
  
Orlando felt his breath hitch in his chest, and willed himself to not to have a heart attack. That would probably put Viggo off him once and for all, even though none of his other screw-ups had. Viggo pulled back a little.  
  
“Breathe, Orli,” he admonished gently, before pulling the younger man close once more, ravishing his mouth with a second, deeper kiss. Orlando giggled breathlessly into Viggo’s mouth, surrendering himself to the older man, just for now. Orlando pulled away from Viggo, ending the kiss.  
  
“That was…”  
  
“Yeah, it was.” Viggo smiled at his… dare he say it, even in his head, his new lover. At least, he definitely loved Orlando, his affection for the young man had only grown over their weeks of cohabitation. “I should get you some hairbands,” he remarked with a grin as he brushed Orlando’s hair back from his face again.   
  
Orlando blushed. He had allowed his hair to grow since leaving home, partly as a reaction against the crew cuts and short back and sides he had always been forced into previously, and partly so he had something to hide behind when Viggo was being so nice to him, in the vain hope that the other man wouldn’t know that he was blushing.   
  
Not that this was a particularly successful tactic, but since Viggo found Orlando’s blush endearing, it really wasn’t a big problem. Their shared reverie was disturbed by the sound of a ruckus outside of the office.   
  
“Come on, we’d better go and see what that lot is up to now. We can continue this… discussion tonight,” Viggo suggested, tugging at Orlando’s hand, pulling him to his feet and leading him into the middle of the fracas, which turned out to be a massive bean-bag fight, provoked by who knows what. Events like this were not altogether uncommon in the centre, and as long as everyone ended up smiling and there was no permanent damage to humans and furniture, Viggo was not averse to them.  
  
Breaking up – and maybe encouraging – the bean bag fight took most of the rest of the afternoon, and when the two men returned home it was in excellent humour. On the way back, they stopped to pick up some pizza for dinner, not wanting to have to spend a lot of time cooking when they got home. They had more important things to do.  
  
Once the pizza was finished, Orlando excused himself to take a shower. He still had glue and paint on his arms and legs, and where the paint was now dry, it was pulling uncomfortably at the fine hair. Viggo watched him walk up the stairs with a fond smile on his face. Orlando felt him watching, and was not above wiggling his arse provocatively through his thin shorts.  
  
Viggo grinned at the attractive arse disappearing up his stairs and began to clear up the remains of the pizza box, and performing various other small chores just to kill time until Orlando had finished in his shower, Viggo was as nervous as all hell about what might happen with Orlando that night, but was doing his best to hide his nerves by keeping busy.  
  
By the time Orlando returned down the stairs, dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Viggo was reading a thick, boring looking book, slouched on the sofa, looking as casual as he could manage. Orlando giggled.  
  
“Enjoying that, Vig?” he asked, an amused tone in his voice.  
  
“It’s not bad actually,” Viggo answered, looking up from the page he had been attempting to read for the past fifteen minutes.  
  
“You might like it better if you had it the right way up…” Orlando offered, his voice dissolving into a high pitched giggle as Viggo looked shame-facedly at his book, before dropping it over the back of the couch, patting the seat next to him in an attempt at suaveness.  
  
Orlando moved forwards slowly, sitting down next to Viggo – but not too close – and leaned forward just a little, licking his lips in unconscious desire. Viggo reached out one tentative hand, pulling at Orlando’s lip with his shaking thumb. Orlando’s tongue, still extended from licking his lips, lapped gently at Viggo’s thumb, pulling it into his mouth.  
  
“You gonna start biting my thumb, too, now?” Viggo asked gently, his voice full of wonder as he leant forward slowly to kiss the other man, pulling Orlando gently towards him until he had the young man held securely in his arms. Orlando giggled, releasing Viggo’s thumb, giving him room to latch their mouths together.  
  
Orlando moaned in pleasure as their tongues twined together, Viggo’s hand coming up behind his head to twine his fingers through soft curls, tugging on them gently as Orlando melted in his embrace. Slowly, Viggo manoeuvred them around so that they were both lying on their sides, rubbing against each other as their teeth mashed together. Viggo’s hips were thrusting blindly and Orlando was responding in kind. Viggo’s free hand snuck down to squeeze Orlando’s tight arse, making the younger man yelp into his partner’s mouth. Suddenly, Orlando’s body stiffened, and he pulled away, almost falling from the couch as he sat up suddenly.  
  
“You alright, Orli?” Viggo asked, worried that he had done something wrong.  
  
“I’m fine, just fine,” Orlando replied, reddening and looking at Viggo as though he was afraid the older man would be angry with him.   
  
“What’s the matter?” Viggo asked, careful to keep his voice calm. He had seen enough abuse in his life to know that if he raised his voice, Orlando would probably bolt from fear of reprisal.  
  
“I just… I thought I was gonna…” Orli looked determinedly down at the floor, hoping that Viggo wouldn’t throw him out now that Orlando had refused him. “I thought I was gonna… comeinmypants,” he finished in a voice that Viggo had to strain to here.  
  
“Oh love, that’s okay. Truth be told, I don’t think I was that far off coming in _my_ pants,” Viggo reassured, reaching out with one hand to pet Orlando’s shoulder gently, soothing him much as he would a frightened animal.  
  
“You were?” Orlando asked, his eyes enormous with the revelation. “And… you’re not mad at me?”   
  
“Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong. I guess we were moving a little too fast, huh?”   
  
“But… I was… it’s dirty, isn’t it?” Orlando stammered, doing his best to think of a reason for his sudden withdrawal.  
  
“To have feelings, Orlando? That’s not dirty. Is that what they told you at home?” Viggo asked, knowing that it might take some time to overcome Orlando’s conditioning.  
  
“… yeah. They said that if you do things… outside of the sanctity of marriage, it’s wrong. I know they’re crazy but, well, I guess some of it sticks, huh?”   
  
“I guess so, but it’s okay, Orlando. We can take all the time you need, if it takes you years before you’re ready to… do anything physical, it won’t bother me,” Viggo said, pulling Orlando down to lean his head on Viggo’s shoulder. This, Orlando didn’t resist, enjoying the scent of Viggo’s hair, and the feel of his hand gently stroking at Orlando’s hair.   
  
“You really mean that? You can just fuck me if you really want to, I don’t mind,” Orlando offered, his voice heavy with acquiescence. He knew that refusing wasn’t a good idea; when he had tried to say no in the past it had not been well received.  
  
“Orlando, I don’t ever want to just fuck you. One day, I would like to make love to you, or maybe even fuck you, but I never want to _just_ fuck you. Why would you even think that?” Viggo asked, the hurt in his voice obvious to Orlando.  
  
“Well… that’s what guys like to do, isn’t it?” Orlando was obviously confused by Viggo’s reluctance to simply take what was offered.  
  
“Has someone done that to you then, Orlando?” Viggo wondered, gently stroking Orlando’s shoulder, wondering who would have done that to such a gentle creature, and exactly when he had had the chance to sleep around as his comment suggested he had.  
  
“Oh no, I just… I thought that was what guys did, you know. Just have sex and then move on?” Orlando offered, somewhat unconvincingly.  
  
“If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” Viggo told him, not wanting to pressurize his young friend – and hopefully new lover – into doing something he didn’t want to do, or worse, to make him run away from Viggo.  
  
“Well… you have to promise you won’t get mad, Viggo. I can’t tell you if you don’t promise,” Orlando said adamantly.  
  
“Why would I get mad at you?” Viggo asked. “Whatever you’ve done, you’re still you. Alright though, if it makes you tell me, I promise”  
  
“Not at me, at… at Mr McKellan. He’s the one who… they were supposed to be exorcising me, and it was his turn to read the bible to me. That was the first time. I was tied down, see, so that the demons couldn’t use my body to hurt anyone, and he… well, he pulled down my pyjamas. He said it was just to make me more comfortable but then he… and he said it was to help force the demons out, and well, I didn’t know any better at the time, but then I was talking to someone else at church, one of the guys, and he said that… that what Mr McKellan did, that it’s a sin. So I asked Mr McKellan, and he said that the way most people do it, when they just… just do it for physical lust, that’s a sin, but it’s not a sin to do it for an exorcism. That it’s necessary.  
  
When I was talking to some of the kids at the centre though, they said that what he did was rape. I mean, I didn’t tell them he had done it to _me_ , just that I had heard that it happened sometimes as part of the exorcism. Dommie said he used to do it to him as well, and sometimes he would make us… rub his penis. With our hands I mean, when we were having spiritual guidance from him, that was.”   
  
The tears were falling freely down Orlando’s face by now, as he poured out the details of his – entirely negative thus far – sexual experiences. Viggo fought down the urge to shout.  
  
“And you expect me not to get angry with him?” Viggo asked incredulously. “You should be telling this story to the police, or the newspapers. Anything that will get that old pervert out of the church so he can’t hurt anyone else.”  
  
“You _can’t_ do anything to him, Viggo. He’s one of my stupid step-father’s best friends. If we do anything to hurt him, what will he do to my mum? Or Elijah, even?” Orlando’s tear filled, frightened eyes implored Viggo to listen to him. Viggo deflated almost visibly as he took in the fear he saw in the boy’s eyes.  
  
“Alright Orli, we’ll play it your way. I don’t want to hurt your family. But when I think of some slimy old man hurting you… it makes my blood boil.”  
  
“It does?” Orlando asked, all wide eyed innocence again as he gazed into Viggo’s eyes, hoping to distract him from his thoughts of vengeance to Mr McKellan. Viggo allowed himself to be distracted, making a mental note to talk to Sean about Dominic’s experiences when he got the chance.  
  
“The thought of anyone hurting you makes my blood boil, Orli,” Viggo told him, capturing his mouth in another, much gentler, kiss, wanting to rekindle the romantic spirit of the earlier part of the evening and, more importantly, let Orlando know how much he meant to Viggo, no matter what had happened to him in the past, or what decisions he made about his future.


	6. Chapter 6

  
Some hours later, Viggo was wakened from what had been a fairly deep sleep by a hand on his shoulder. Half sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he looked up at a rather troubled seeming Orlando.  
  
“I… sorry to wake you but… I had a bad dream. Can I get in with youforabit?” Orlando asked, clearly embarrassed, but also still shaking from the horror of his nightmare.   
  
Viggo nodded immediately, drawing back the quilt and moving over so that Orlando could get into the large double bed, and slung a comforting arm around the thin shoulders before re-covering them both with the thick duvet.  
  
“You want to tell me about it, love?” Viggo asked, stroking his shoulder gently, not wanting to pull Orlando into an embrace in case he provoked more bad memories.  
  
“I was back at Hugo’s… Mr McKellan was there… I… it was horrible, Viggo. I never remember it being that horrible at the time; I guess it must have been though. It hurt… a lot. All those things they did in the name of God. It makes me sick to think of it,” Orlando whimpered, turning his head into Viggo’s shoulder so that the older man wouldn’t see his tears of remembered pain and frustration.  
  
“It should never hurt, love. That bastard… I’d like someone to hurt him the way he hurt you!” Viggo said, his voice rough with emotion.   
  
“How… how do you make it not hurt?” Orlando asked, he had always wondered what the attraction was for the guy being fucked. Ian had always enjoyed their little sessions, but Orlando had more often than not gone home bleeding. He knew that people did this voluntarily, but he had never quite understood why anyone would want to, when it hurt so much.  
  
“You have to prepare whoever is… on the bottom. Stretch their passage with your fingers to make them loose. It helps if they’re relaxed as well,” Viggo explained.  
  
“W… Will you show me?” Orlando asked tentatively, hoping that Viggo wouldn’t think him too fragile. Orlando really cared for Viggo, and he knew that the older man felt the same way about him. What Orlando wanted, right now, was for Viggo to dispel the terrible memories that had haunted his sleep for months, although he had never before had the courage to come and ask for help.   
  
“When you’re ready, I’d love to show you,” Viggo replied, willing his cock to ignore the warm heavy softness of Orlando’s body lying against his own. There was no way he was going to rush Orlando into this.  
  
“I’m ready _now_ , Viggo,” Orlando said emphatically, rolling onto his side to look the other man in the face. Viggo still looked uncertain, so Orlando pushed him down flat and pressed his mouth to the other man’s, leaving Viggo in no doubt as to his desires. Orlando didn’t want Viggo to go unfulfilled, not after the disappointment he must have had earlier on when Orlando had stopped their fun. Viggo had been kind to him about that, but Orlando knew what he really wanted.  
  
“Alright, alright, if you’re sure you want to,” Viggo groused, when he got his breath back, pushing Orlando gently off of him and pulling off the battered t-shirt he wore to sleep in. Orlando pulled off his own pyjama top, and then went to remove his pants.   
  
“Wait!” Viggo ordered. “Let me do that for you.” Orlando’s hands dropped to his sides, and Viggo smiled down at him, running one hand down Orlando’s side, stopping when the younger man tensed.  
  
“Anytime this is too much for you, Orli, you just say the word and I’ll stop right away, okay?”   
  
Orlando knew he wouldn’t say no, no matter how bad it got. If he told Viggo to stop, the older man would give up all pretence of patience with him; he would either simply fuck him and be done with it, or throw him back on the streets.   
  
Viggo felt Orlando relax under his hand, and bent down to trap the younger man’s lips in a melting kiss whilst one hand steadied him, the other creeping under the waistband of his trousers to take hold of his cock, squeezing it gently. Orlando’s pleasured moan was all the encouragement Viggo needed to bring his other hand down the back of the young man’s trousers, running a finger gently down the crack of Orlando’s arse, pushing in between his cheeks.  
  
Orlando hitched upwards, away from the hand on his backside, pushing his cock into Viggo’s hand and moaning again when he tightened his grip a little.  
  
“You like that, huh?” Viggo asked, winking down at Orlando and grinning when the younger man whimpered in pleasure, then he removed his hands from Orlando’s body to get rid of both of their remaining clothing, such as it was. Orlando groaned, pulling Viggo back down on top of him, his hips snapping upwards as their cocks rubbed together.  
  
“Just a minute, I need to grab some lube, baby,” Viggo said, pulling away from Orlando regretfully, for just long enough to scramble to the bedside table and fish out a bottle of lubricant and a condom. Viggo assumed that Orlando’s abuser had never used protection, and he wanted to make sure the younger man got into good practises for any future sexual liaisons he might have. Viggo hoped that he would be with Orlando for a very long time, but he was unsure of his place in the young man’s heart.  
  
“What’s that for?” Orlando asked, running his hand over his own engorged organ and stroking it almost idly as he watched Viggo squeeze a globule of gel onto one finger.   
  
“It’s to make it easier to push it inside, helps stop the friction,” Viggo told him. Orlando bit his lip nervously. “Only if you want too, baby. If it makes you feel better, I can show you first…” Viggo offered, as nervous as Orlando. It had been a long time since he’d had anything up his arse, but he was willing to put himself on the line for Orlando’s sake.  
  
“Nooo… show me this way,” Orlando breathed, his legs dropping apart as his cock swelled further with increased desire at the care that Viggo was showing him.   
  
Grabbing a cushion, Viggo encouraged Orlando to lift his hips and slid the pillow underneath, giving himself clearer access to his goal.   
  
Orlando obeyed, fighting down his panic that this was going to be just as bad as he remembered by telling himself that if he just did this he could stay here.  
  
“Try and relax now, babe, and remember, if you want me to stop, just say so and I will, straight away. I promise.” Viggo placed one hand on Orlando’s thigh, holding it gently in place as he ran the other hand up the crack of the young man’s tempting arse.  
  
Orlando bucked a little, his cock craving the contact it was being denied. Viggo smiled at him as he pushed one finger carefully inside of Orlando, making him tense up around the digit.   
  
“’m okay,” Orlando gasped, jerking a little as his body adjusted to the intrusion.   
  
Viggo smiled at him, struck once more by the beauty of this young man and the wonder that he was willing to let Viggo do this to him, for him. Viggo stilled his finger, not wanting to move it until Orlando was ready, waiting until he felt the clenching arsehole relax around his finger. Pushing his finger in deeper, Viggo bent it slightly, brushing against Orlando’s sweet spot. Orlando’s hips pushed upwards again.  
  
“Feels good, Viggo,” Orlando almost screamed as Viggo’s finger touched that wonderful spot inside of him, a bundle of nerves that he had never known he had. Orlando writhed on the bed in an effort to increase the pleasurable sensations. “Do it again, please?”  
  
Viggo smiled at Orlando’s reaction, pulling his finger out a little and moving it around inside of the boy, leaning down and pressing frantic kisses to Orlando’s chest all the while. As he went to push a second finger in, Viggo glanced up at Orlando’s face. Instead of being contorted with ecstasy, Orlando looked like he was in pain, or concentrating hard on something. Viggo stilled his hand.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Viggo asked, suddenly afraid that Orlando was not as ready as he insisted he was. Orlando nodded slowly, his breathing laboured as he struggled not to panic. Viggo immediately removed his fingers from Orlando, wiping them off on the sheet before reaching up to stroke those near irresistible curls once again. Orlando relaxed a little, stroking Viggo’s face with his own hand.  
  
“I’m sorry, I guess… I can’t do this yet, Viggo. I’m sorry for leading you on. Do you want me to go?” Orlando asked, his voice utterly miserable with failure.  
  
“Of course I don’t. I told you we didn’t have to do this yet, love. Not until you’re ready,” Viggo assured him, soothing him gently and kissing the tears that leaked from Orlando’s eyes.   
  
“I thought… I thought if you just… and it didn’t hurt, and it felt good, really it did. I thought that… and then we could….” Orlando stammered, doing his best to explain his feelings to Viggo. “I wanted… you said it didn’t have to hurt and… I just wanted to know… and so…”  
  
“Orli, baby, if you just wanted that, you should have said so and we could have taken it more slowly, so you weren’t feeling so pressured. Maybe we could have started with you doing it yourself?” Viggo suggested, wanting to reassure Orlando that he wouldn’t be thrown out just because he didn’t want to have sex right now. Orlando seemed to equate any rejection with punishment.   
  
“I… I didn’t want to make you mad at me.” Orlando was sobbing now, his face buried in Viggo’s shoulder once again.  
  
“I would never get mad at you for saying no, sweetheart. It’s your right to say no – or yes. I don’t want to have sex with you until you want it as much as I do,” Viggo told Orlando. “I’m not some perverted old man forcing a helpless child to do what I want; I’m a person who wants his lover to be happy, no matter what that involves. If that means only kissing for now, or only hand jobs, or whatever, it’s _fine_ as long as it’s with _you_.”  
  
Orlando had sat up during this dramatic speech, staring at Viggo through eyes swollen from crying.  
  
“I… I’m sorry. I… I’m not used to being allowed to say no. Even after I wasn’t allowed in the church any more, sometimes Ian would come over and… if I said no… it got so much worse. I thought… I didn’t want you to be mad… But now you are mad, so it was just… I’m sorry. I can move out in the morning if you like.”  
  
“I do _not_ , Orlando. What I want is for you to be happy. If that means us being together, I’d like that. But if it means you decide to not have sex for the rest of your life, that’s fine too. I love you Orli, not your body, not having sex with you; _you_. And I don’t care what you do – or do not do, I will never throw you out of my house. You can stay here as long as you want to.”  
  
“You… you love me?” Orlando looked downright amazed at Viggo’s emphatic declaration. He had never thought that anyone would – could – love him. Orlando may have rejected his family’s religious beliefs, but an unhealthy amount of their brainwashing had definitely stuck.   
  
“Yes, I love you, Orlando Weaving. Is that so hard to believe?”  
  
“Don’t! Don’t call me that. I hate having his name.” Orlando shuddered at the mention of his hated step-father, no matter how tangential.   
  
Viggo decided that naked in bed was perhaps not the best place for this conversation, and sat up slowly, not wanting to spook Orlando.  
  
“What say we put some clothes on and go downstairs, continue this over a hot drink?” he asked, pulling on his pyjama trousers and reaching down for Orlando’s t-shirt.   
  
Orlando nodded dumbly, dressing himself quickly, smiling faintly at Viggo when the older man draped his dressing gown over Orlando’s trembling shoulders, worried by his continued shaking.  
  


***************

  
“Coffee or tea, love?” Viggo asked, pulling out one of the carved wooden chairs from the kitchen table for Orlando to sit down.  
  
“Tea please,” Orlando replied, looking up at Viggo. “I don’t really like coffee that much,” he continued, a little shyly. Everyone Orlando knew drank a lot of coffee, so he tended to drink it too, not wanting to seem strange. He had never liked the bitter liquid that much though.  
  
Viggo quickly made them both a cup of tea. He preferred coffee himself, but it was easier to make them both the same drink and he certainly didn’t mind tea. Right now, he mostly wanted to get something hot into Orlando’s system, and hopefully to calm him down a little.  
  
Wrapping his hands around the cup Viggo handed him, Orlando blew gently on his tea, sipping it appreciatively.   
  
“You make good tea,” he offered shyly.   
  
Viggo smiled at him, sipping his own drink and sighing in pleasure as he swallowed the first mouthful.  
  
“So…” Viggo began, “Where do you want to start?”   
  
“I… You really truly love me?” Orlando asked, having quickly decided that this was the most important point of their conversation.  
  
“I really truly do. Is that okay with you?”   
  
“It’s more than okay. It’s great. Amazing. I never dreamed… I… I…”  
  
“You what, sweetheart?” Viggo asked teasingly.  
  
“I… I think I love you too. I think,” Orlando replied hesitantly. He still didn’t know what Viggo expected of him, and it seemed like a wise idea to let the other man know that he was a total screw up. “I… I never felt this way before, I know that much. But I don’t know if it’s love, because I don’t know how that feels.”  
  
“That’s okay, Orli. You take all the time you need to work out how you feel, and I’ll still be here when you’re done. I think what I said earlier about your family teaching you that it’s wrong to feel was maybe more accurate than you like to admit, hmm?”   
  
“Maybe a little. Affection was always frowned upon. Even with Elijah, Hugo was always a cold bastard. I really hate him you know.”  
  
“I’d kinda worked that one out, yeah,” Viggo said wryly.  
  
“I mean it, Vig. I never realised before just how much I hate him until you called me… well… I don’t want his name any more. Is it difficult to change your name?” Orlando asked, his mind darting from place to place, still unsettled by the events of the night.  
  
“It’s pretty easy actually. You can start by just using a different name. Have you got something in mind?” Viggo asked, trying to keep up with the mental leaps Orlando was making.  
  
“Yes. I want my real name back. My Dad’s name, I mean. He might have beaten and abandoned me, but he never let his friends fuck me in the name of the Lord,” Orlando said, his voice bitter with hatred.  
  
“What is your real name?”   
  
“Bloom. My Dad was Harry Bloom, and my real name is Orlando Bloom. That’s what I want to be called from now on.”  
  
“Well okay then, from now on, you’re Orlando Bloom. We can talk to my lawyer about the legal bit later on. There’s really no hurry.” Viggo smiled at solving that problem so easily, even if there were another six hundred still unresolved.  
  
Orlando nodded seriously, dragging his fingers idly through a puddle of tea that had spilled onto the table. He looked thoughtfully at the pattern of the liquid on the table, pushing the edges out to make the puddle more symmetrical. He knew there was more to talk about, and he wasn’t sure that he really wanted to have this conversation, although he knew that it was important to Viggo that they did. Truth be told, Orlando knew that it was important to himself as well, and that they needed to talk about these things, but it was still somewhat intimidating.  
  
“Orli, it’s really important to me that you understand that I didn’t offer you a home just so that I could fuck you, and that that was never a condition of your staying here. I’m not going to force you to stay, but I really don’t want you to leave. I believe that we could have something special here, but only if you want it as well.”  
  
“I want to stay. I want to try… try to build whatever it is that we have. I think it’s worth building,” Orlando stammered, his words clumsy, but his meaning clear.  
  
“C’mere, you,” Viggo said gruffly, his voice rough with emotion.   
  
Orlando stood up and walked slowly around the table, his thumb under attack once more.   
  
“What’s the matter?” he asked, concerned that something was wrong with Viggo. He yelped in surprise when his friend… his boyfriend, he supposed, smiling at the thought, pulled him down onto his lap, hugging him close.  
  
“Just… needed to hold you for a minute. Convince myself that this is really happening, is all,” Viggo said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of Orlando’s t-shirt.   
  
Orlando giggled softly, it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one having trouble with accepting this situation.   
  
“You can hold me forever,” Orlando suggested, his voice cracking with emotion, leaning down to press a kiss to Viggo’s forehead. The older man looked up at him, startled by the casual affection from his young lover. Orlando was a sweet, loving boy, but he had never been overly generous with his hugs and kisses, something that Viggo had always put down to his upbringing.   
  
He was glad to see that the young man was able to overcome this part of his conditioning, that Orlando’s own affectionate nature was slowly emerging from the shell he had built around himself. It was great to see him interacting with the other young people at the Youth Shelter each day, see how Orlando relaxed, little by little, as the weeks had gone past.   
  
“You about ready to go back to bed?” Viggo asked, as Orlando attempted to stifle an enormous yawn. At the sheepish nod, Viggo smiled, pushing Orlando to his feet and leading him by the hand up the stairs. When he would have taken the tired young man into Orlando’s room, Orlando protested with a squawk.  
  
“Can’t I sleep in your room, Vig?” Orlando requested plaintively. “I don’t want to have another bad dream.”  
  
“Of course you can, love.”  
  
“You really don’t mind?” Orlando asked, still worried that Viggo might be angry with him.   
  
“Why would I mind spending the night holding you?” Viggo replied, perfectly sincere. Orlando smiled dreamily, following the other man as he lead him into his bedroom and pulled back the duvet, encouraging Orlando to lie down before climbing in after him, pulling him close, just to hold him, and stroking his shoulders gently as they both fell into peaceful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Orlando woke up with a start, finding himself alone in Viggo’s large bed. Wondering if Viggo had left him after all, he sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily as he looked around the room. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have said no, but Viggo had seemed so understanding, he had really fooled Orlando.  
  
In the midst of all his panicking, Orlando nearly missed Viggo returning to the room from the bathroom, where he had been showering. Viggo had left Orlando sleeping peacefully, and was somewhat shocked to find him in tears, scrambling out of the bed with his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey what’s wrong?” Viggo asked, grabbing Orlando by the shoulders, his towel falling to the floor in his haste to comfort the younger man.   
  
Orlando looked up, shocked to see Viggo standing in front of him.  
  
“Y… you’re here,” Orlando stated flatly, drawing in a huge hiccupping breath, the tears still falling from his eyes.   
  
“Of course I am, love. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Viggo asked, worried that something had happened whilst he was away.  
  
“I… I said no… and I thought…I know what you said but I thought… I mean, I was scared that… but you’re _here_ ,” Orlando managed to say through gulped breaths, burying his head in Viggo’s shoulder as soon as the older man pulled him into a fierce embrace.  
  
“Oh, my poor love. I know it’s difficult for you, baby, but I’m not going anywhere, no matter how many times you say no to me, and that’s a promise. I only got up to take a shower, you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you, that’s all,” Viggo reassured him, forcing himself not to be hurt that Orlando didn’t trust him not to play with his emotions. It was important to remember that for most of his life Orlando had not had anyone whom he could trust in that way. Even his mother hadn’t been there when Orlando really needed her.  
  
“’m sorry to be such a nuisance,” Orlando stammered. At home, he had been left in no doubt that he was anything other than a burden to Hugo whenever he got upset, even after a beating, as he was supposed to be thankful to his step-father for guiding him to behave in a more godly fashion.   
  
“You’re not a nuisance, love, although I think I need to let go of you for just a second. It’s kinda chilly in here,” Viggo said, smiling fondly down at the curly head pressed to his shoulder. He wondered if Orlando was even aware that he was naked. Given the young man’s hysterical state, he rather doubted it.  
  
“’k.” Orlando sniffed, moving away from Viggo to sit back on the bed. “Viggo, where are your clothes?” he asked, looking at Viggo for the first time since he had started panicking.   
  
“I had a shower, love, and my towel fell on the floor when I grabbed you, that’s all. Water’s still hot if you want to wash up, or do you want breakfast first?” Viggo asked whilst he went to dress, not sure if Orlando would take the simple suggestion as a criticism. He had come to learn that many things that he thought of as simple became complicated when dealing with someone as abused as Orlando. Suggestions were often taken as commands, so Viggo always tried to give the young man choices so that Orlando would feel more in control.  
  
“Uhm… I guess… I dunno. What do you think?” Orlando asked, not yet ready to be in control after his panic attack. His body was still shaking with adrenaline, and he knew that it wouldn’t take much to push him back over into more tears. He appreciated that Viggo wanted him to take charge of his own life, but sometimes it was easier just to follow.  
  
“How about breakfast first?” Viggo offered, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head to match the battered jeans he now wore. He knew from previous experience that after a panic attack, Orlando’s blood sugar would be low, and he would be feeling somewhat delicate. Getting some food into him was probably a good idea at this point.   
  
Orlando nodded, he was a little light headed, and he hadn’t actually eaten very much of the pizza last night, excitement and nerves having gotten the better of him. Following Viggo pliantly, Orlando was glad that he didn’t have to think just yet, and that Viggo wasn’t expecting him to have conversation right now. His brain was still reeling after his panic attack, and he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t burst into tears again if he tried to speak. Right now, all his energy was focused on keeping it together. No matter what Viggo said, he had to find Orlando’s near constant crying over the last day or two pretty exasperating, and Orlando didn’t want to give him any more trouble.  
  
After a simple breakfast of toast and several cups of tea, Viggo left Orlando to shower and dress whilst he headed down to the Youth Shelter to ready it for the day. Orlando would follow when he was feeling a little more stable. He had protested that he was fine, but Viggo had insisted that he take the morning off, knowing that the young man would feel better for spending some time alone and calm down in a quiet environment.  
  
Orlando took his time in the shower. Truth be told, he felt rather like a limp noodle, and he knew that Viggo was quite right in insisting that he not come to work this morning. There was no way that Orlando was fit to deal with the antics of the more rambunctious kids right now.   
  
Letting the hot water cascade over his body, Orlando let it wash away his doubts and relax the tense muscles in his back. Lathering up a sponge, Orlando ran the soft object over his body, pausing when he reached his groin. Before he had freaked out last night, he had been having a really nice time and as he thought back to the way Viggo had made him feel, his cock twitched eagerly. He dropped his sponge onto the shower floor, taking his prick in hand and rubbing his thumb over the head.  
  
Remembering the way it had felt when Viggo’s finger brushed that spot inside of him, Orlando took his other hand and rubbed his arse. Grinding his cock into his fist, he moaned in pleasure as he pushed his finger just a little way inside himself. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it definitely didn’t feel the way that it had last night when Viggo had done… whatever it was he had done. Twisting slightly, Orlando pushed a little further in, his other hand leaving his cock to brace himself against the wall of the shower. The tip of his finger was now completely inside him, but it really didn’t feel good. It was just painful now, almost burning, so Orlando resolved to ask Viggo for advice later on and just have a nice wank for now.  
  
Pulling his finger out, Orlando stuck it under the spray for a few moments, making sure it was clean before he resumed stroking his cock. Rubbing just under the head of his cock, Orlando moaned as his hand squeezed his cock, the delicious sensations running through his body in the nicest way. Orlando closed his eyes, letting his mind wander where it would, not altogether surprised when the image of Viggo popped into his head, as naked as he had been that morning when he was soothing Orlando.  
  
Letting his head fall backwards, Orlando twisted his hand, pressing on the vein that ran along the base of his dick. Mmmmm, it felt good, and the thought of Viggo being there, of the older man’s hand on his engorged organ, made him go weak at the knees. Maybe Viggo was right, they should probably have started more slowly; Orlando was pretty sure that Viggo’s hand on his cock would not cause him any undue distress.   
  
Squeezing his hand once more, Orlando groaned as he felt his balls tighten. It would have been nice to draw this out, but after the events of the previous night and that morning, he was too on edge to wait any more. Orlando groaned loudly as he came, his cock spurting a thin line of come over his hand. He slumped against the wall of the shower as he recovered from his orgasm.   
  
Glancing down, Orlando realised he was quickly turning into something of a wrinkled prune, so he finished washing up and got out of the shower, grabbing one of Viggo’s fluffy towels and wrapped it around his body.   
  
Dressing quickly, Orlando went downstairs, grabbing one of the textbooks his distance learning centre had sent to him, and sat down at the dining room table, opening the textbook to the next page with a happy sigh.   
  
Most people found studying to be a distasteful chore, but Orlando had been denied the right to a decent education for so long that he enjoyed the time each day spent with his books. Even when he had attended the church run school in the town, before Hugo had yanked him out for ‘home schooling’, Orlando’s education hadn’t exactly been comprehensive. His education had focused more on the Ten Commandments and obeying God’s will than algebra and English language, and what little history and geography he had learned was skewed, that was for sure.   
  
He was deep in his studies when the sound of the door bell jerked him out of his reverie. Muttering under his breath, Orlando groaned as he got up from the table, marking his place carefully in his text. Opening the door, he was shocked, to say the very least, to see his step-brother standing in front of him, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt with a plain black tie.  
  
“Uh… have you thought about taking Lord Jesus into your heart?” Elijah asked, his gaze firmly on the floor.   
  
“Lij?” Orli asked, giggling when the young man’s eyes widened as he saw who it was he was attempting to convert.  
  
“Oh man! Orli!” Elijah babbled, abandoning his script at once, glancing round to make sure that the other church members who were with him on this trip couldn’t see who he was talking to.  
  
“Am I glad to see you, too, little bro,” Orlando said with a smile, “But we shouldn’t talk here. If someone sees you talking to me you might get in trouble, and they might try and bring me back. Can you meet me later or something?”  
  
Elijah nodded; he had been wondering how Orlando was doing since he had left the family home. His father had forbidden him to go to the day centre, telling him that the kids there were all possessed and they would corrupt him if he gave them the chance. He knew that Sonia had visited Orlando there a couple of times, and she had told him that the young man was flourishing, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. He and Orlando had always gotten along well, in spite of his father’s attempts to drive a wedge between them. Their shared misery had bought them together, although Elijah knew that Orlando had always had it worse than him.   
  
“Where do you want to meet?” Elijah asked, most of the places he frequented were church run or owned, and he was pretty sure Orlando wouldn’t want to go to any of those, and he couldn’t risk being seen at the Youth Shelter unless he wanted to undergo a round of exorcisms.   
  
“How about the coffee shop?” Orlando suggested. “It’s not run by one of your Dad’s screwy friends, and I doubt he’s thought to forbid you from going there. Do you have time today, or should we leave it till tomorrow?”  
  
“No, I can meet you today after worship. About six? Dad’s got a church meeting so he won’t be home till late, and Mum’s sewing or something at Pastor Jackson’s tonight so there’ll be no-one to miss me,” Elijah said thoughtfully, straightening his tie absently as he ruminated. “Look Orli, I’d better go or someone will be coming to see why I haven’t finished the street yet. I’ll see you later.”   
  
Elijah turned to leave with a fleeting smile for his step-brother. Orlando nodded, and waved to Elijah before closing the door and going back to his studies with a slight grin on his face. He had been worried about Elijah, but unsure of how to contact him, given his obvious reluctance to go near his step-father’s house and those of his friends. But now here was his chance to make sure that his little brother was okay, and to warn him about some of the more unsavoury members of his father’s church.   
  
Orlando picked up the phone and dialled the day centre number. He’d make Viggo happy by taking the whole day off as had been suggested to him earlier, and put in an afternoon of shopping before he went to meet Elijah.   
  
Several hours, and six eye-wateringly bright t-shirts later, bought from last month’s proudly earned salary for the work as the Youth Shelter, Orlando was sitting in the local coffee shop, sipping on a chocolate frappucino and wondering if he had been stood up. Elijah was currently ten minutes late, and Orlando kept telling himself that his brother’s church service had probably just run late – it wasn’t exactly an uncommon situation for whoever was leading the sermon to get carried away and keep on for an extra ten or fifteen minutes.   
  
Smiling happily as he saw Elijah through the glass front of the shop, Orlando waved enthusiastically to his younger step-brother. Elijah looked decidedly out of place amongst the casually dressed youths in the coffee shop, dressed as he was in the same sober suit he had been wearing earlier. Elijah ignored the queue of people waiting for their drinks, and wove his way through the crowd to Orlando’s table, dropping into a chair across from him.  
  
“Sorry I’m late, Orli. Mr McKellan kept me back after worship to discuss my apprenticeship. I’m going to become a Youth Leader,” Elijah explained eagerly, although the mention of Mr McKellan made Orlando’s blood run cold.   
  
“That’s… that’s great, Lij,” Orlando managed to say, trying to hide his lack of enthusiasm from showing in his voice. He had no wish to spoil his brother’s mood, all he wanted was to catch up with him and make sure that he was okay. “So… how have you been?”   
  
“I’ve been fine, thanks, working hard as usual. We’ve been making a vegetable garden for Pastor Jackson,” Elijah told Orlando, then went on to describe the plot of land behind the church, and how the young people had transformed it, planting potatoes, carrots, peas and beans. Orlando listened with interest, stiffening when Elijah mentioned that Mr McKellan was overseeing the project.  
  
“Lij… has Mr McKellan ever… has he ever… touched you?” Orlando asked, hating himself for most likely ruining his brother’s happy mood, but suddenly _needing_ to know if his abuser was also hurting the younger boy.  
  
“What do you mean?” Elijah asked. Surely Orlando knew that he and Mr McKellan had touched one another, like when the older man had been correcting his posture during choir, or helping him into or out of the church’s minibus.  
  
“I mean… has he ever…” Orlando dropped his voice to a whisper, so that only Elijah would hear his next words, “touched you… on your… on your genitals?”   
  
“Orli! That’s _disgusting_. Why would you even ask that?” Elijah’s eyes were wide with shock, and he pushed his chair away from the table, feeling dirty even thinking of what Orlando had suggested. Maybe his father was right about Orlando being possessed after all.   
  
“He did it to me, Elijah. And you know the Monaghan’s son, Dominic? He did it to him, too.”  
  
“But… but why would Mr McKellan do that? He’s not a physician,” Elijah asked, unable to process the information that someone who was so godly would do something so sinful and disgusting. It was drummed into youth members of the church that sex was disgraceful if it took place outside of marriage, and sexual contact with another man was a worse sin than murder. He could not understand why Mr McKellan would want to do that when he was so senior in the ranks of the church.  
  
“Because he’s a sick bastard?” Orlando suggested with a quirk of his lips. He could understand why Elijah was having trouble believing him. Orlando liked his little brother well enough, but he was thoroughly brainwashed and certainly didn’t know the half of what went on behind the scenes of the church.  
  
“Orli! You can’t say that! Mr McKellan is a senior church member and he wouldn’t do that! Besides, cursing is wrong,” Elijah finished up, half out of his seat, ready to leave Orlando and go back to the church to find someone to tell about the terrible thoughts that Orlando had put into his head.   
  
“Lij, wait a minute, please,” Orlando begged, wondering what the right words would be to make his brother believe him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Elijah. When they were exorcising us and he was praying over me, after everyone else had left the room, he pulled down my pyjama pants and touched me... sometimes with his hands, but sometimes he would… and when I told your dad, he said I was crazy and if I knew what was good for me I’d shut my face and never mention it again.”   
  
Elijah had gone white, so shocked was he by Orlando’s accusations, and he sank back to his seat, clutching at the table weakly.  
  
“You… you really mean it, don’t you? He really did those things to you?” Elijah said, suddenly positive that Orlando was telling the truth. There was a kind of desperate conviction his eyes and voice that told Elijah that he wasn’t making this up.  
  
“Yeah. He really did, and not just to me either. I don’t mean to make trouble for you Lijah, but I had to make sure he wasn’t doing that to you as well.”  
  
“No, he never did anything like that to me, Orli. I didn’t ever think he would do… I mean, it’s sinful, isn’t it? There’s not a lot worse that you can do.”   
  
“It’s not a sin to love another man, Lij, but it is a sin to force yourself on someone who doesn’t want you. Especially a kid.”  
  
Elijah frowned. He was pretty sure it was a sin to love another man, but he wasn’t going to get into an argument about that right now. He knew that Orlando no longer followed the teachings of the church, and besides, he had to get home soon, having a lot of homework to do.   
  
“Lijah? You okay?” Orlando asked, concerned about the silence that his brother had sunk into.   
  
“I… yeah. Look Orli, I have to go do my homework. Can we meet up again sometime soon? Dad won’t be pleased if I’m home late,” Elijah stammered, biting his lips worriedly.  
  
“Yeah, sure Lij. Here’s my number at the day centre. If I’m not there, you can always leave a message for me,” Orlando promised, handing Elijah a small square card with the address and phone number of the Youth Shelter printed on the front. Elijah took it with a grateful smile, putting it carefully in his trouser pocket before rising and making his way back out through the crowd of people.   
  
Orlando sighed, drinking the last of his mostly melted frappucino, and then got to his feet. He had plans to meet Viggo for dinner at the centre, and he didn’t want to be late. The older man had said that he wanted to talk and Orlando was keen to find out what he had to say.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Viggo was sitting at one of the long tables in the day centre when Orlando walked in, working on some papers amidst the organised chaos of the centre closing down for the night. Orlando walked up behind him and, feeling playful, put his hands over the other man’s eyes.  
  
“Guess who,” he giggled into Viggo’s ear.  
  
“I’d know that giggle anywhere, Orlando, don’t think you can fool me,” Viggo said, turning around to face the other man, and pulling him close for a brief kiss. Orlando smiled into Viggo’s lips before pulling back.  
  
“Did you have fun shopping, sweetheart?” Viggo asked tenderly, stroking the side of Orlando’s face, brushing the hair back from his face.  
  
“Yeah, I got some excellent t-shirts in the sale. Really good price!” Orlando enthused. “And I saw Elijah as well. We… we had a talk.”   
  
“How did that go?” Viggo asked, knowing that Orlando had wanted to find out if Elijah was being abused in the same way that he had been.  
  
“He’s… okay. Brainwashed, but okay. He didn’t believe me at first; I thought he was going to run off and get the exorcism squad on me, but luckily he saw sense. Then he had to go home, homework, you know. If it’s not finished on time, Hugo does his nut.”  
  
“You know, it never fails to amaze me how terrible your language is, considering the way you were raised,” Viggo teased, pulling Orlando to sit down next to him.   
  
“Ahh, shut up, old man,” Orlando retorted, cuddling up under Viggo’s arm and trying to peek at the papers in front of the other man, ignoring the yells of the kids running around him. “You wanted to talk to me?” he asked, wondering again what the older man wanted.  
  
“Yeah, let’s go to my office, okay? It’s a bit too noisy out here right now,” Viggo suggested, standing up and pulling Orlando to his feet after him.   
  
“I just sat down!” Orlando grumbled, getting up anyway and following Viggo to the small, slightly more private office.   
  
“You can sit down in the office, love. And stop worrying, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Viggo murmured, reading the young man like an open book. Once they were both settled, Viggo relaxed in his chair, looking curiously at Orlando.  
  
“I’m sure you know, ‘Lan, that I don’t usually stay in one place as long as I have here. Usually I just get the places running and then I set off to start up the next,” Viggo began. Orlando tensed up, sure that Viggo was about to tell him that he was leaving and dumping Orlando to boot.  
  
“Well, I stayed longer here because… well, to be frank, Orli, I stayed because of you. You stumbled in here one day, and even though you were just a kid then, you caught my eye – more than that, I’m not some dirty old man like McKellan. You caught my heart, and there was no way I could leave you in that house and just go. Not when you opened up to me like you did.”  
  
“Go on.” Orlando blushed, looking down at the floor with sudden interest, wondering what surprising words would emerge from Viggo’s mouth next.  
  
“The thing is, Orli, it’s been a couple of years now, and I have to confess I’m getting itchy feet. I was thinking I might move on soon, the lease on the house is up next month, and I’m not looking to renew it.”  
  
“You’re leaving?!” Orlando squealed. “Why are you leaving? Where will you go, and where will I stay? I can’t afford a place of my own!” Orlando got to his feet, staring wildly at Viggo.  
  
“Orlando, sweetheart, listen to me,” Viggo reassured. “Yes, I want to move on, but I want you to come with me. If you want to, that is?” he asked, concernedly.  
  
“You… you want me to come with you?” Orlando asked, not quite believing his ears. “But… where will we go?”  
  
“Anywhere we want. Some other town where they have need of us,” Viggo said, shrugging his shoulders thoughtfully.  
  
“Really anywhere?” Orlando asked. “Somewhere away from here? What would we do there?”  
  
“Same thing we do here, set up a new shelter somewhere else. There’s a lot of people out there need helping,” Viggo pointed out, pulling out a map and pointing out nearby towns and cities.  
  
“Could we maybe go somewhere a bit further away?” Orlando said thoughtfully. “Somewhere no-one knows me as a crazy, possessed son of a religious nutter?”  
  
“That sounds like a really good idea.” Viggo agreed, pulling Orlando close to him. “Anywhere you fancy in particular or shall we just aim a pin at the map?”  
  
“Well… when I was small, my dad always used to tell me about this place in Indiana that he used to live in. It always sounded kinda… idyllic to me, it’s pretty isolated and poor so I bet there’ll be lots of kids there. Lots of open space too, maybe we could have a farm or something? Instead of a shelter like this one, one that’s all outside and stuff?” Orlando offered, indicating the general location on the map, across the country from where they were now.   
  
“A farm? Like what, cows and hens and stuff?” Viggo teased, pressing a soft kiss to Orlando’s elbow.   
  
“Or horses. I always wanted a horse. Hugo said they were sinful,” Orlando said, with a wry grin on his face, sitting himself down on the older man’s lap. “I could never really figure that one out. How is a horse sinful? That’s crazy”  
  
“That whole church is crazy, love. But we can get some horses if you want. It’s a lot of work though, Orlando. You know that, don’t you?” Viggo warned him.  
  
“Do you know a lot about horses then?” Orlando asked curiously. He didn’t know much about Viggo’s life before he had taken up helping people.   
  
“Yeah, we used to have horses where I grew up. Well, in some of the places. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Must have stuck with me.” Viggo told him, nuzzling into Orlando’s neck and pressing more kisses to his soft skin.   
  
“Stop it a minute, Vig. I want to talk seriously about this!” Orlando said mock-severely, although secretly he was enjoying the attention that his lover was paying to him. “Who’s going to run this place when we leave? It’s not going to just close, is it, after all the hard work you’ve put into it?”  
  
“No, no, of course not.” Viggo reassured him. “Sean and Bernard will take over the running. I’ve already discussed it with them both.”  
  
“You... you told them and not me?” Orlando asked, hurt that he was the last to find out about the move. He moved out of Viggo’s embrace, wrapping his arms defensively around himself.   
  
Viggo immediately got to his feet and took Orlando into his arms, cursing himself for forgetting for a moment just how insecure the lad still was.   
  
“Only hypothetically, love. If you wanted to stay then I would have stayed, too, but I wasn’t going to suggest leaving and then having to say sorry we have to stay here until we find someone to take over,” Viggo explained, rocking Orlando slightly in his arms, and sighed in relief when he felt Orlando relax.  
  
“Well… alright then.” Orlando allowed that it was better that Viggo hadn’t made a promise that he would be unable to keep, even if it did mean him being kept in the dark. “So, when do we go?”  
  
“Well, like I said, the lease on the house is up in six weeks, so I guess in six weeks.” Viggo finished with a grin.   
  
Orlando smiled up at him, pulling him close for another kiss.  
  
“Six weeks… I guess we’ve got a lot to do then…”   
  


***********

  
_Six weeks later…_   
  
Orlando was running around the Youth Shelter like a headless chicken. He and Viggo were supposed to be leaving for the airport in two hours, and he couldn’t find their plane tickets. Cursing under his breath, he pulled a pile of papers onto the floor, shouting in triumph as he came across the documents at last. Guiltily looking around the office at the mess he had made, Orlando wondered if he had time to clean it up among the million other jobs it seemed like he had to do today. He was leaving the office when he spotted a familiar figure entering through the door of the centre.  
  
“Orlando!” that horrible voice called out.  
  
”Why, Mr McKellan, this is a surprise,” Orlando said smoothly, shocking himself by not loosing his cool at the mere sight of the man who had hurt him so badly.  
  
“I hear you’re off to new things, Orlando, and I wondered if I might just have a quick word before you go?” Ian McKellan asked, keeping his voice courteous and light, very much aware of the other people around them shooting him curious looks.  
  
“Sure, why don’t you come into the office,” Orlando suggested, holding open the door he had just walked through and following Ian inside.   
  
“Thank you, my boy,” Ian said, sitting down on the battered couch and motioning for Orlando to sit next to him. He frowned when Orlando pointedly chose a chair across the room, behind what had been his desk until this morning.  
  
“I wanted to come and see you to make sure there were no hard feelings between us, Orlando. I know I was hard on you sometimes when you were under my care, but I only did it to help you, you know that, don’t you?” Ian said, looking pleasantly over at Orlando, who was looking back at him with an expression he generally reserved for cockroaches.  
  
“No hard feelings?” Orlando asked, raising one delicate eyebrow expressively, a habit he had learned from his step-father, who could prophesy doom with only his eyebrows. “You mean am I going to tell the press about what you did to me, and how the church lets you carry on working with kids even though they know you’re a paedophile?”   
  
”Don’t you dare call me that!” Ian was instantly on his feet, crossing the room to stand over Orlando in a threatening manner. “You’re a despicable boy and I never should have come here today. It was foolish to think that you might have changed for the better. You should be locked up, saying such awful things.”  
  
“ _I_ should be locked up? After what you did to me, you have the cheek to say that I should be locked up? As it happens, I’m not planning to go to the police or the press, but only because it would make life difficult for my mum, and she doesn’t deserve that. I know what you lot are like, remember, Ian.”  
  
“That’s Mr McKellan to you, young man,” Ian replied, all pretences at civility now gone.  
  
“It’s really not, Ian. You can’t hurt me any more, and you better not hurt my mum or Elijah, because if I hear that you have – and I _will_ hear, Ian, then I’ll go straight to the police and tell them everything. And I do mean everything,” Orlando said, a nasty smile playing on his lips.  
  
“Oh, who’s going to believe a little punk like you?” Ian laughed, not a nice laugh, but one filled with hatred and malice.  
  
“They’ll believe me alright, especially when I get the others to back me up, and the doctor to show them my medical records,” Orlando retorted, sneering at his erstwhile abuser. It wouldn’t do to let Ian know that he was bluffing about his medical records. Bernard had examined him for physical injuries that Hugo had bestowed on him, but Orlando had never told him about the rapes so he had never had reason to go looking for evidence.   
  
Ian growled and lunged for him across the desk, making Orlando scramble backwards to prevent the man from reaching him.  
  
“You can’t hurt me any more, Ian,” Orlando told him. “I’m not scared of you anymore. You might have tormented me when I was tied up and helpless, but you’re the one who should be scared now, scared of what I know, because I can – and will – make the rest of your life very miserable indeed.” It wasn’t like Orlando to take joy from the misery of others, but in Ian’s case he made an exception. The man was so repellent that he almost made Orlando sick to be standing so close to him now.   
  
Orlando jumped backwards when one of Ian’s hands grabbed him around the throat. Reacting in a purely instinctive manner, he slammed one fist forwards straight into Ian’s nose, making the other man howl with pain and release him.  
  
“Get out now, Ian, or I’ll do more than break your beak,” Orlando threatened, following him to the office door to make sure he didn’t linger inside the centre, whilst massaging his throat where Ian had grabbed hold of it. He was pretty sure he would have bruises; he had always bruised easily, much to Hugo’s chagrin. His step father had had to restrict his beatings to those areas of Orlando’s flesh that weren’t normally visible, although really it wouldn’t have mattered too much as the teachers at school were just as prone to chastise anyone who stepped out of line as Hugo was.  
  
Picking up the tickets again, Orlando left the office for what he hoped was the final time, closing the door after him and letting it slam with an air of finality. He pushed his way through the crowds of young people all waiting to say goodbye to himself and Viggo, and made his way into Bernard’s examination room.  
  
“Hey Bernie, can you just take a quick look at my neck for me?” Orlando asked, so much more relaxed now than when Viggo had brought him in that day, which seemed like an eternity ago, although in fact it was barely six months before. Bernard left the notes he was writing and came over to have a look at Orlando’s neck, wincing as he saw the handprint emblazoned in red on the young man’s fair skin.  
  
“What the hell happened, Orli?” he asked, “It wasn’t Viggo, surely?” Bernard knew that Viggo would rather do anything than hurt his young lover. His friend had never been celibate so long than since he had started seeing Orlando, although he had confessed to Bernard that they weren’t completely lacking in passion, just that full sex was off the menu for now.   
  
“That bastard McKellan came by to say goodbye,” Orlando told Bernard. “He grabbed me when I threatened to go to the police about him.”  
  
“Really? Are you okay, Orli? Do you want someone to get Viggo?” Bernard fussed over the young man; he felt rather paternal towards him, and he knew that usually when Orlando was having a crisis, Viggo was the first person he would turn to for help.  
  
“I’m fine. I punched him in the nose and told him I wasn’t scared of him anymore,” Orlando said, giggling at the shocked look on his doctor friend’s face. “I think I broke it for him…”  
  
“That’s great, Orlando!” Bernard said, putting his hand over his mouth when he realised what he had said. “Let me take a look at your hand as well when I’ve finished with these, okay? Don’t want any damage to those fingers of yours, do we now? It wouldn’t do for you to start your new life all beaten up,” Bernard finished, his eyes twinkling with pleasure at how far Orlando had come since the first time they had met. The boy he had known four years before wouldn’t have dreamed of punching anyone, let alone someone so high in the church hierarchy.   
  
Just as Bernard was wrapping Orlando’s knuckles, Viggo stuck his head around the door, slipping in and closing it behind himself when he saw who it was the doctor was treating.   
  
“You taking up boxing, love?” Viggo asked, referring to the white bandage on Orlando’s hand.  
  
“Only briefly.” Orlando grinned. “Ian came by, and I shared my feelings with him.”  
  
“And he with you by the looks of things,” Viggo exclaimed, seeing the livid bruises on Orlando’s neck and hurrying across the room, tilting Orlando’s head this way and that to see how bad the bruising was.  
  
“It’s really nothing, Viggo. Stop worrying. Don’t you have to leave soon?” Bernard asked, reassuring and chivvying Viggo at the same time. Handing Orlando a tube of arnica for his bruises, he hurried them both out the door.   
  
All three of them were taken aback by the cheer that greeted them.  
  
All the children and young people at the Youth Shelter that day had gathered in the main room, clapping and cheering as the three men emerged from the small room. Kyle, the young boy who had helped Orlando build many of the chairs that littered the day centre, was standing in front of everyone, holding a large box and looking extremely nervous and a little embarrassed.  
  
“Uhm…” Kyle began, stepping forward and offering the box to Viggo and Orlando. “We just wanted to say that we’re going to miss you, and we all wish you good luck in your new life. We… we made this for you,” he finished in a rush, thrusting the box into Viggo’s hand and disappearing into the crowd of people.  
  
Viggo pulled the ribbon off of the box and offered it to Orlando to take the lid off. The young man did so, revealing a beautiful hand made scrapbook. When they lifted it out, they found the book full of photos of the kids and the centre, along with messages of love and good wishes for the future. Touched by this show of affection, Orlando felt tears pricking his eyes and swallowed quickly, turning his head into Viggo’s shoulder to hide his emotions from the crowd.  
  
Viggo was feeling none too steady himself, but he knew he had to say something to all the people there, who were waiting for a response to their gift.  
  
“Guys… I just don’t know what to say. This is just amazing, thank you so much. You’ll excuse us if we don’t read the whole thing now, I know, but I think I can promise you that we’ll definitely be spending a lot of time looking at it when we arrive. Dr Hill and Dr Bean have our forwarding address, and you’d better believe we’ll be keeping in touch. It’s been a pleasure watching you all growing up, and I hope we’ll see you again someday,” Viggo finished, as Bernard tapped him on the shoulder, leaning forward to murmur in his ear that they really had to leave now if they wanted to check in on time.  
  
Moving swiftly through a thin aisle that was forming for the purpose, the three men made their way out of the Youth Shelter, Viggo and Orlando shaking the hands of everyone they could reach on the way, and stopping to hug people every so often.   
  
As the car began moving, Orlando twisted and waved goodbye to his old life, before turning to the front, ready to begin again.  
  


**THE END**


End file.
